To trust a stranger
by wishful thinking again
Summary: Bella suspected her husband, a wealthy and powerful contractor of having an affair. She hires private investigator Edward Cullen who ignores his better judgement about mixing women and work. Not only is she beautiful but her husband was a player in his inglorious downfall from the police department and revenge would be sweet until he witness a hit that targeted Bella. (EXB)
1. Chapter 1

A/N Disclaimer: All character names and likenesses belong to Stephanie Meyer, the story and plot belong to Karen Robards. I liked the story and thought it would be even better with my favorite characters.

Prologue

1987

"Please, please don't do this." Rosalie King's voice broke. Tears flowing as she looked over her shoulder at the man prodding her forward, the wet tracks sliding down her pale cheeks.

"Walk down to the end of the car." The gun aimed at her back never wavered. The eyes of the man holding it were as cold and soulless as the dark waters of South Carolina's Lake Moultrie, which spread out like a black tinted mirror before them.

"I'm begging you. Please." Rosalie stumbled, unsteady, her boots crunching the fallen leaves. Her voice was high pitched and near hysteria. I would have told her that that begging for her life wasn't going to do any good. I would have told her if the duct tape covering my mouth would have allowed me to.

I'm pretty sure I had at least six broken ribs based on how hard it was to breathe. I tried to keep focusing on her voice but I could barely stand. My hands cuffed behind my back and a gun digging into my spine while blinking away the blood that was pouring into my eyes from the gash on my forehead.

I watched as she stumbled forward again, and silently apologized for not recognizing the danger earlier, in time to save us both. I'd been stupid and cocky and so sure of my ability to follow the devil down to hell and come back out again smelling like a rose.

I snorted a laugh as I thought 'this is the story of my life' and now it was going to get me and Rosalie - the twenty two year old blond bombshell that made the mistake of trusting me with both the deadly secret she'd uncovered as well as her safety - killed.

As I moved the pain cutting through me nearly drove out the terror I was feeling. I had to take short shallow breaths while trying not to pass out from lack of oxygen because if I did that then there was no way we'd have a chance.

But really who was I kidding? We didn't have a chance to get out of this despite all of my highly specialized training; I knew we were going to die. One of the four men- I knew all of them, had worked and played with them as friends even while doing the job the government paid us to do- surrounding the vehicle had popped the trunk.

This was it; I was looking at what was sure to be mine and Rosalie's tomb. They'd beaten what they needed out of me and now I was disposable, as Rosalie was, even though she was the boss's son's wife.

"Emmett, do something." Her eyes were wide and terrified as she looked around. "They're going to kill us. Please, don't let them kill us." She started to sob.

"Don't kill us." She cried out to our captures. "I'll do anything." She pleaded.

"You shouldn't have done what you did." He spat grabbing her by the shoulder and spinning her around. "Get in the trunk."

"No! Please." She was gasping and crying hysterically when suddenly Rosalie broke free surprising everyone and bolted as she fled towards the road.

"Get her!" They all, with the exception of the one man standing behind me, took off after her. I knew it was my last and best chance to make my move. Gritting my teeth I turned and kicked my leg out taking my captor by surprise and he went down.

Sprinting away hoping to reach the line of trees was the only chance we had, but with agonizing pain that increased with every step, I knew I wasn't going to make it. And then, in the distance, I heard a shot and a gurgling scream: Rosalie.

My heart leaped and tears poured from my eyes. When the bullet caught me, it was almost a relief. It hit me like a kick from a mule, knocking me forward, sending me down on the cold, hard ground. It wasn't long before I was lying in a puddle of my own blood.

The good news was that I felt nothing, not the pain and I wasn't afraid anymore. I just felt cold. The bad news is that I wasn't going to make it to see my grandmother, mother, or brother again. More tears leaked from my eyes at the thought.

By the time they came for me, two of them, lifting me up by my armpits and knees, carried my back to the car, I was able to look up into the star studded sky with a tiny smile. They shoved me into the trunk next to Rosalie's body and shut the lid. I barely noticed the sound of water or the sway of the car as we sank further into the icy cold lake.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

15 years later

"I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything Cullen, but you sure make one ugly-ass woman." I narrowed my eyes at my partner. Jasper was openly snickering at me as we met up the parking lot of the Pink pussycat, one of Charleston's most notorious gay bars.

"I wouldn't date you, that's for sure." He continued.

"You are dating me, so shut the hell up." I said as my heel caught on a crack in the pavement and I stumbled forward nearly twisting my ankle.

"Shit. How women walk in these things beats the hell out of me. My feet hurt already. I'll be crippled before the nights over." Jasper pulls his arm free from my grasp.

"You better be keeping those hands to yourself. Alice is the jealous type. She'll kick your ass, if she sees you molesting me." Jasper thought he was hilarious. Unfortunately I had drawn the short straw so here I was trying to pull up my pantyhose while he cracked jokes.

"Shut up, here we go." I said as we got in line in front of the bar. It was located in the middle of a run-down area of town. The three story building had a flaming flamingo with a giant, reclining neon cat swilling a martini, affixed to the front wall.

The small curtained windows were outfitted with black iron bars like a prison. A bouncer checking ID's stood just outside the door. It was near midnight, and there was a line. At least half of the patrons looked like I felt.

According to our sources, Caius Volterra had a thing for buxom blond drag queens and since his wife was paying through the nose so she could nail him good in their divorce, I had been reluctantly willing to turn myself into just that, wired for pictures and sound to get the dirt.

I really hated doing domestic cases but Cullen and Whitlock, Private Investigators, were not successful enough to be too particular about the jobs we took.

"That'll be ten bucks." The bouncer said looking us over without much interest. Looking around this place I sigh heavily before getting into character making Jasper pay our cover charges. Walking in I notice it was dark, smoky and smelled like beer and BO. Plastic palm trees adorned the corners and the DJ was playing 'Margarita-ville.'

Couple swayed on the dance floor while up on stage was a blond with boobs the size of basketballs stripped in time to the music. I scanned the room before someone grabbed my ass.

"Whoa!" That, I was not expecting, and I nearly took a header onto the filthy floor.

"Hey now, don't you be grabbing my lady." Jasper grins, as the guy that was now in front of me looked me up and down.

"Sorry man, I didn't realize she was with somebody." He held up his hands up in surrender akin to a peace sign while taking a step back. As soon as Jasper looks away the man puckers his lips and blows me a kiss.

"From now on, you watch my back." I whisper shout to Jasper who is looks completely amused before his face morfs into one of recognition.

"There he is."

"Where?" I ask as I look in the direction of his gaze. Sure enough I see our target seated with a gorgeous-looking blonde. She smiled at Caius and then headed across the room disappearing inside a door adorned with a neon sign that read 'Ladies'.

"Looks like you're on." I ignored the laughter in his voice as I followed the blonde into the little girl's room. I should have listened to gramma and become a lawyer.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Wake up! I heard the voice loud and clear in my head as I did just that. My eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, my thoughts incoherent for a moment as I realize that I am at home in bed listening to the familiar sound of the air conditioner. I glance around the room and note the potbellied teddy bear that my father had given me all those years ago.

Looking back to the table I can just make out the faint glow of the alarm clock. Waking up all alone in the bedroom had become the normal instead of just an occasional night when Royce chose to spend the night in the guest room.

We hadn't had what one would call a real marriage in nearly a year but still I had given it one more shot. I'd put on what should have been seen as an enticing nightwear and had gone downstairs around eleven.

"I'll be up after the news." He'd said barely giving me a glance. Not wanting to start another fight I went back upstairs and waited. Only to wake up again moments ago at two minutes after midnight.

Maybe—maybe he was still coming. Maybe he was watching Letterman or maybe tonight Leno had an especially fascinating guest. I laughed to myself. Get real. As I was reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp is when I'd heard it.

That distant sound, more like a vibration of the garage door going up. My stomach heaved and I had to force myself to take deep calming breaths. Despite all my hopes, it was happening again.

I have to know for sure. I thought to myself as I rush downstairs and through the door that connects to the garage. I jump into my shiny silver Jaguar with every intention of following my cheating husband.

As I turn another corner I find myself pushing down on the lock button again just to make sure that all 4 doors are indeed locked. I realize now that driving deep into Charleston's bustling red-light district in the middle of a Friday night was probably not the smartest thing I've ever done.

But when I left the house I had no idea where I would be headed so I couldn't be convicted of total stupidity. But I had to know where he went when he snuck out of our house after he thought I was asleep and I end up here. Not a very positive reflection on my marriage was it?

All up and down the street, neon signs blinked GIRLS! LIVE! ONSTAGE! And ADULT MOVIES XXX. The knot that had lodged itself in my stomach had seemed to be getting tighter.

Royce was forty years old and healthy as a horse as far as I knew. I was twenty-nine, with a slim yet curvaceous figure that I worked very hard to keep with long brown hair that waved naturally in the sauna like heat and a face that had taken me far from my 'wrong side of the tracks' roots.

Royce and I hadn't had sex in well over eight months. It certainly wasn't from lack of trying on my part but trying to entice my own husband into bed without success was ego-busting to say the least.

His excuse, when I confronted him about our dead sex life was that he was under a lot of stress at work, so he'd appreciate it if I would just leave him the hell alone. He was a contractor who, in partnership with his now retired father, owned a very successful business, All-American Builders, which made tons of money developing subdivisions and building luxury homes across the state. I have no doubt that he was under a significant amount of stress.

But enough stress to keep him from having sex? Uh-uh. No way. It had taken a while for the other shoe to drop, but finally it did. I had found diamond-shaped blue Viagra pills mixed in with some vitamins in his medicine cabinet.

At first, hope had flared thinking he had decided to see a doctor to fix his little problem. But nothing had happened. There had been eight pills when I had first discovered them but when I checked again there had been only six. Royce was having sex alright, just not with me. At least he had apparently been telling the truth about stress impairing his sexual functioning.

Ever since I awoke to the sound of the garage door going up I was sick to my stomach. It was hard to admit that my Cinderella, rags to riches, fairytale marriage had about as much life left in it as yesterdays road kill.

And to make matters worse, my whole family was now dependant on Royce. My mother and stepfather lived in a house Royce owned. My sister's husband worked as a vice-president at his company, a job that paid Mike perhaps three times what he was worth, enough for Jessica to stay home with their two girls.

Divorce was such an ugly word. But I have a sinking feeling that I am looking it right in the face. Until just a little while ago, when I'd finally had enough sense to add two and two and get four, I hadn't allowed myself to seriously consider ending my marriage.

Maybe things would get better and maybe stress _was_ the reason that Royce wasn't interested sexually anymore, and maybe there was a perfectly good explanation why he slept in the guestroom.

I asked him about these things, nicely, screaming at the top of my lungs, and everyway in-between. His response was that the stress of keeping me in the style in which I was definitely not accustomed had both robbed him of his manhood and given him insomnia.

He slept in the spare bedroom because he didn't want to keep me up and sometimes when he couldn't sleep, he liked to go out driving around his sub-division. Looking at the houses he's built helped relax him, he said. Uh-huh.

I guess it was a good thing that my doctor had done a complete and thorough physical when I was in for my annual visit last time. That _what if_ in the back of my mind had me asking for a complete work-up. It had all come back clean and I had wanted to believe that this possible infidelity was all in my head.

A stable home, a stable marriage, these things were precious to me. As a child, Jessica, mom, and I had been so poor we'd sometimes have to live in homeless shelters. Hunger wasn't some abstract concept. I knew exactly how that felt.

My looks are what had gotten me and my family out of that hell and it had won me Royce, the handsome millionaire. I had fallen wildly in love with him when I was barely twenty, and he, in turn seemed to adore me. But somehow over the course of our eight year marriage it had all gone wrong.

The love had disappeared like air escaping from a tiny hole in a balloon: the loss was so gradual that no one noticed until it was flat.

So now here I am at a quarter to one caught in a snarl of traffic on this X-rated street just around the corner from Citadel, spying on my husband. Who had certainly not built a home anywhere in the vicinity that I know of.

I should just turn around and go home. Royce would kill me if he found out I had been following him. Besides I lost him anyway. I saw his car turn down this street but turning the same corner a minute later I couldn't find him.

That's it, I'm sure there will be other opportunities. I hung a right into the nearest parking lot and swung the Jag around to find that the exit was now blocked by a beat up blue pickup truck that must have pulled in behind me.

"Shit." The occupants of the truck had gotten out and were coming this way. A quick glance around and I found there was no place to go. Parked cars ringed the lot on all sides. There was only one exit and the pickup loomed between it and me.

I pushed the lock button again. It clicked vainly. The doors were already locked, and the windows were up. The punks kept coming. My cell was in my purse. I reached over ripping open the zipper, thrusting my hand inside and rooted frantically around. A hairbrush, makeup, a jumble of miscellaneous junk. Where oh where was that phone?

Just as my fingers closed around it, knuckles rapped on the window making me jump.

"Hey, open up." His tone was almost friendly, but the gun in his hand was not. Shit! I'm about to be mugged, or carjacked, or worse. What can I do? He was armed with a gun and I am armed with a cell phone.

If it came to a duel, I'm wiling to be that he could shoot before I could punch 911. Whichever way it worked out, there would be no keeping this a secret. Royce was bound to find out. And if my husband discovered that I'd followed him into Charleston, he would kill me.

"I said open the damn door, bitch." My assailant didn't sound friendly at all this time. He'd just been kind of holding the gun at waist level before. Now he was pointing it right at me. My fight or flight impulse kicked in, and it didn't come down on the side of fighting.

I slam the transmission into reverse, stomped my foot on the gas, and rammed the heel of my hand down on the horn at the same time. The Jag shot backwards. The horn blared. The thugs cursed and gave chase.

The Jag crashed into the side of a black Chevy Blazer that was at that moment backing out of a parking space. The impact threw me forward and brought the car to a shuddering stop. At this same time my window shattered, showering me with glass.

I whipped my head around to see the punk who had knocked on my window thrust his arm into the car and pull up the lock. Before I could do anything but gasp the door swung open, the guy leaned across me and unfastened my seatbelt and then yanked me from the car.

My butt and elbows hit the pavement hard. The asshole jumped into the car and I barely had time to roll out of the way before the Jag and the pickup that had blocked it peeled rubber out of the parking lot.

The bad new was, the Jag had been stolen. The good news, I was relatively unharmed. Voices had pulled me out of my immediate shock. My phone was still in my hand. I'd lost the car but still had my phone.

Frantically I pushed the 9, then paused, recovering enough wit to think the situation through. I am sprawled out in the parking lot of some girlie joint deep in the heart of Charleston, lying on the pavement that was hot enough to toast bread even so long after sundown, wearing nothing but my hubby-come-hither sleeping attire of hot pink satin tap pants and a skimpy matching camisole along with a pair of Nikes.

My butt is bruised, by elbows stung, and my car was gone. How can I ever explain this to Royce? Oh lord! What if this hits the papers? Maybe calling 911 was not the best idea, I realize with my finger poised above the button. But what else can I do?

"Have a fight with your boyfriend?" The voice was masculine. The vision that filled my eyes when I glanced up in response was anything but. Pointy-toed black patent stilettos big enough to swim in. Muscular calves in opaque black pantyhose. A red sequined skirt that stopped several inches above a pair of athletic looking knees. A shiny black blouse with a deep décolletage that was filled in with a red and black polka-dot scarf. Breasts the size and shape of traffic cones and long blond platinum hair.

"They stole my car! Those two punks- they stole my car."

Peeling myself from the ground I scrambled to my feet. I ignored the stabs of pain from my elbows and butt staring helplessly in the direction in which the car disappeared. The streets and sidewalks were still clogged with traffic but the car was no longer in sight. My legs went rubbery and a masculine hand closed around my arm steadying me.

"Are you drunk?" Another masculine voice asked with a disapproving tone. I looked at his face. Twin arches of sky blue eye shadow above a sea of green eyes and gleaming scarlet lips above a strong chin with the faintest hint of five o'clock shadow.

"No!" I jerked my arm free, raised the phone, and added another 1 to the 9. Shit, pausing thinking about Royce again.

"You know, you banged into my car pretty good. You have a license? Insurance?"

"What?"

"License? Insurance? You know, the kind of information most people exchange when they have a wreck?"

Taking a deep breathe. I can only focus on one problem at a time. Looking at the car there was substantial damage, the dent extended from the middle of the right rear door to past the wheel well.

"Yes. Yes, of course I have a license and insurance. Oh, my purse is in the car. They stole my car! I have to get it back." My finger shot to the final 1 and then paused again. No doubt about it. The Jag was long gone. There was no way to keep this a secret from Royce. I might as well bite the bullet and call the police and be done with it.

Still I found myself hesitating, racking my brain to come up with an – any – alternative. I glanced up appealingly only to find that he was giving me the once over. I was almost sure of it. A bubble of near hysterical laughter rose from my throat.

How much worse can this night get? My probably cheating husband had snuck out of our home after I'd gone up to bed. I'd chased him to an obviously bad part of town where I had a wreck, had been assaulted, and my Jaguar had been stolen. Now I am standing in my skimpy satin husband-bait in the parking lot with a drag queen checking me out.

He finished his perusal of my body, glanced up, and our gazes met and held. Mine, indignant and challenging. I am not in the mood to be sexually harassed but after the briefest of pauses he broke eye contact and his gaze dropped down my body again.

Blatantly this time. I was about to open my mouth to say something but he beat me to it.  
"Girlfriend, you really should be wearing heels with an outfit like that." He said in a slow and faintly disapproving drawl.

He'd been checking out my shoes? Again laughter bubbling up my throat. More people started filling the parking lot. None of which gave me, my sexy pajamas or Amazonia in her jaw- dropping glory a second glance.

Not that it mattered anyway. The only thing that mattered was getting my car back and getting home before Royce. The problem was how am I supposed to do that?

"Damn Royce anyway." I muttered aloud. This entire disaster was every bit his fault!

"Mrs. King?" Amazonia asked on a faintly disbelieving note. On the contrary this night had gotten worse because whoever this was knows my name. A denial was on my lips but that would only make me look foolish, and the situation even more questionable. Might as well just punch in the final 1 and get it over with.

"Yes?" I stuttered.

"Well now," he said as his gaze ran over my body once more but with an entirely different expression. "If that just doesn't beat all." I'm not quite sure what he meant by that, but I sure didn't like the sound of it.

"Hey Ang-gie" a slurred voice interrupted. I glanced around and saw a couple heading this way. An obviously drunken man in a rumpled suit and a beautiful blond in an elegant black cocktail dress who clung possessively to his arm came up behind him and paused, the woman obviously supporting the man, who was a little unsteady on his feet.

The smell of booze was emanating from the man and I realized that he had been addressing Amazonia. Angie? I shot him a glance. The name sounded far too ordinary for such an extraordinary individual.

"You still got that address? It's gonna be a hell of a good time." The man's gaze shifted from Angie to me, and moved closer to me. "Your pretty friend is welcome too."

"Oh Caius, you know I wouldn't miss it for the world." Angie smiled and spoke in a mincing falsetto that in no way resembled the growling masculine tone he'd used with me. "You and Giovanna go ahead, sugar. I'll be along shortly."

"Remember, we've got lots of blow. All you need to bring is your little friend, and we'll party all night. There's plenty of fun to be had by all." Caius gave me a leering smile as Giovanna pulled him away. She turned around and mouthed "You stay away bitch." In my direction and then waggled her fingers at Angie and said aloud, "See you later sweet cheeks."

Sweet cheeks? Angie? "Wait, does she think I'm a man?"

"You should be flattered that she was jealous of you, she certainly wasn't jealous of me." Angie's voice was back to being masculine. The reality of the situation came back full force.

"My car." I groaned pausing once again over the final 1 on my phone.

"You gonna call the police or not? I've got places to go and things to do. And we're going to need that police report for the insurance." He started tapping his pointed patent-leather toe. I just couldn't bring myself to punch the final 1. If I do then all hell will break loose the minute I got home.

"Look, I've got a problem, okay? I don't want my husband to find out I was out tonight." I confessed. Angie knew who I was so therefore almost certainly knew Royce in some way or another. It was hard to imagine why Royce would know a drag queen, but Angie was such a bizarre figure that it seemed alright to confined, a little, in him.

Besides, I wrecked his car and he wanted to call the police and I was just now fully beginning to comprehend what a really bad idea that was. I'd be willing to bet that every cop in South Carolina knew or at least knew of my husband, and once I call them it would be the same as taking out an ad in the paper describing the night's debacle.

Perhaps if telling Angie a little bit of the truth could win me some sympathy to give me some time to think, I'd be all for that.

"Oh yeah?" Angie sounded interested rather than sympathetic, but interested worked too. A candy apple corvette honked as it passed by. Caius and Giovanna waved as they drove past.

"If you know who I am, then you must know I'm good for the damages to you car." I pointed out. "But I don't really want to call the police."

"Is that right?" Angie was looking at me speculatively. "Suppose we get in my car where we can have a little privacy and you tell me all about it. Maybe I can help you out here."

Angie's very masculine-feeling hand curled around my upper arm again before I could protest, urging me toward his damaged car as his long bouncing curls bouncing against breasts roughly the size of Himalayas. This was probably only a little less stupid than chasing after Royce in the first place but under these circumstances none of the other options seemed appealing.

Angie opened the door for me as I slid into the black leather seat. It was only as he shut the door behind me and walked around the hood to get in himself that it occurred to me that maybe getting into a car with a strange man, in women's clothes no less, was not the smartest thing I could have done.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Bella King was every bit as beautiful as the first time I saw her. I was still a cop and had been hired to provide extra security for her wedding. She didn't even glance my way. She was all about her groom Royce King the IV. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and I wanted nothing more than to shove it up his ass.

Back then Royce had made a big production about everything he did, and his wedding –his second one – was no exception. There had been thousands of guests including the mayor and more big names than you could shake a stick at, TV and newspaper coverage, and one Isabella Marie Swan, one month out of her reign as Miss South Carolina, for a bride.

That was eight years ago and a lot of water had gone under the bridge since then, including my own firing from the Charleston PD, which Royce, the corrupt bastard had almost certainly orchestrated.

But that was just a tiny beef I had with him. The major part, the part I could never forget concerned my brother Emmett, who was eight years older and had vanished some fifteen years before. I am convinced that Royce, who had been a childhood friend of Emmett's, at the very least knew what had happened to him.

At first, we – my mother, grandmother, and I – thought that Emmett had just taken off somewhere. He'd been twenty-five years old at the time, after all, and a free spirit if there ever was one. Then, when months passed without a word, we began to wonder if perhaps he had just gotten himself into a jam and had to lie low.

As months turned into years, we had entertained theories ranging from a foreign prison to amnesia. Mom had died ten years ago, still uncertain about her older son's fate and still grieving his absence. I had promised on her deathbed that I would find Emmett. So far I hadn't been able to make good on that promise.

The last time I had spoken with Emmett had been during a hurried telephone call. He had begged out of a basketball game he'd promised to take me to when I was seventeen because he had a job to do for Royce. Royce lived a life that seemed dazzlingly opulent to two working class sons of a dead in the line of duty cop.

Something in Emmett's tone had made me think that this wasn't the run of the mill 9 to 5 type of job either. Once I became a cop myself, I had, quietly and on my own time started searching for Emmett and checking out Royce had been at the top of my to-do list.

I hadn't, at the time, expected to really find too much but what I did turn up surprised me. Royce's first wife for example had walked out on their marriage at about the same time that Emmett had disappeared.

Interestingly enough she couldn't be found. And then word on the street was that Royce was involved in the drug trade. Given Emmett's apparently comfortable finances, his lack of steady job after leaving the military, and his renewed involvement with his childhood buddy Royce, I had suspected that that maybe Emmett's "job" for his friend and his subsequent disappearance could both be linked to a drug operation that Royce was running.

But I couldn't prove it. Nobody in authority seemed at all interested in taking up the investigation. The King's were VIP's in South Carolina, after all, with friends in high places, and nobody wanted to call the wrath of the powers that be upon their heads.

The consensus had been to shut up and get over my brother and find something else to do. It didn't help that Emmett had spent years flirting with the wrong side of the law. It also didn't help that Royce's ex-wife was from California where she'd presumably returned before dropping out of sight.

In the end, as was pointed out to me, was that all I had were a bunch of rumors and when I tried to persevere and get proof of illegal activity is when I was kicked off the force. And now what seems to be a twist of fate, I was given a second chance at getting some answers.

Royce's beauty queen bride was sitting next to me in my car, looking sexy as hell, in a jam, scared of her husband and turning to me for help. I turned on the car and the AC blasted out hot air. Unrolling the windows Bella sounded uneasy.

"Um, wait a minute." She said. She was such a pretty thing. Royce had always been about a million times luckier than he deserved and his wife was no exception.

"Sit tight." I said smiling which was meant to be re-assuring. I pulled my cell phone out of my cleavage and made a quick call to Jasper before backing out of the parking spot.

"Jasper, change of plan, get over to 85 Dumensil Street and get some pictures."

"Me?" he squawked. "What about you? You seemed to be getting along with them real good. Don't be a chicken shit now."

"Somebody hit my car, and I've got to sort it out. It's going to take a while. You need to get those pictures." I started driving, now that we were moving there was a breeze which brought down the temperature to bearable.

Beside me, Bella was looking more and more uneasy. I smiled at her again. Royce's wife falling into my lap like this was the most promising thing that had happened to me in a long time and I was going to make the most of it.

"How am I supposed to get in?" Jasper went on.

"Take a pizza, pretend your delivering. Hell, just walk in. Nobody'll notice, Caius was drunk off his ass and there will be quite the crowd." There was a break in the traffic and I pulled up behind a big white caddy heading north. If those thieves were pros – and they most probably are – the Jaguar was long gone. But it was possible she'd been robbed by a couple of kids out for a joyride in which case the car might be abandoned somewhere.

"I don't think this is such a good idea." Bella said. "Would you take me back to the parking lot please?"

I caught her eye and held up one finger – give me a minute – and added another reassuring smile. I watched as she glanced down at her cell phone in her hand and hesitated. Then watching as her other hand crept up the door to the handle. Was she thinking about jumping out? Not unless she had a death wish.

"Yeah, like nobody is going to notice. I'm going to get my ass kicked." Jasper's voice was getting gloomier.

"Gotta go." I said into the phone as I came to a stop at the traffic light. I watched Bella's fingers curl around the handle.

"What was that about?" she asked while looking at me apprehensively.

"I was supposed to take some pictures at a party, and now, thanks to you, I can't make it. A friend is going to go instead." I told her as I pointedly looked at her hand on the door handle. "You planning on getting out?"

"N-no." She looked guilty as hell. Her hand dropped back down into her lap.

"Because if you did, it could be dangerous." She blanched so I spelled it out for her. "You could be hit by a car." The light changed and I drove through the intersection. Heading down toward the Battery, which in my estimation would be the best place to discover an abandoned car.

The air was coming out cooler now so I rolled up the windows with a touch of a button and Bella sucked in a breath.

"Um, where are we going?" she asked very politely. Her hands were in her lap still clasped around the cell phone and she was chewing on her lower lip. She looked gorgeous and I wish I hadn't noticed. Getting turned on by Royce's wife was not part of the plan.

"You worried you're being kidnapped?" Realization dawned. She shot her eyes over to mine.

"Maybe. Am I?" I had to give it to her. There was a challenge in her voice and in the look she gave me. My estimation of her went up a notch even if it meant awarding Royce a point for his good taste.

"Nah, you're safe with me, I promise." I said while turning down an even more run down street.

"Look Angie, now that I've had time to think it over, I think I'll just call the police." She lifted her cell phone ostentatiously; her finger hovered over the keypad without touching the buttons.

 _Angie?_ For a moment I was at a loss until I remembered my new persona. Angie – my ex-wife's name – conjured up out of the blue when I glanced into the mirror in the ladies room at the Pink Pussycat and noticed that except for the hair color and shoulders I kind of resemembeled her. No wonder she was nervous.

"I thought you didn't want your husband to know that you're out." She started chewing on her lower lip again.

"I don't." her voice was low. "But."

"So how about we see if we can find your car?" She sucked in a breath and her gaze flew to my face.

"Do you think that's even a remote possibility?"

I felt a stab of compunction. Being married to Royce was obviously no picnic, and she was looking to me for help. But I am going to help her; I quieted my nascent knight in shinning armor, even if there was an ulterior motive for my assistance. At least I will do what I can to get her car back for her. After that I make no promises.

I'd been gunning for Royce for too long to let a little thing like a flare of sympathy for his wife to hold me back.

"Maybe." I picked up my phone and asked for the license plate number before dialing.

"Yeah?" The grumpy sounding voice on the other end belonged to Jacob Black. He was the go-to man for all the local car thieves, as a gung-ho rookie police officer I had arrested him twice in my first two months on the job and was infuriated when he'd walk within 24 hours each time.

Fortunately Jacob was not one to hold grudges and we'd ended up developing a mutual respect that turned into an almost friendship over the years after I was off the force. After giving him the information he needed he informed me that it would cost. That much I already knew.

"No problem." I figured Royce could cover it.

"I'll make some calls and see what I can find out." Jacob replied. I turned to Bella and let her know what he'd said.

"It's going to cost you to get your car back. Probably a couple thousand if it can be done."

"I heard." She said sounding disgusted. "I can't believe I have to pay to get my own car back."

"If you don't want to, I can always call him back and tell him to forget it."

"No." There was a note of panic in her voice. Her hands tightened on her phone. "No, I want it." Yeah, she was definitely afraid of Royce. Under the circumstances feeling sorry for her was a mistake but I couldn't help myself.

"He's going to want money on delivery, if we're lucky and we can find your car." She looked worried.

"I can write him a check. That is if he brings back my purse too. It was in the car." A check. I sighed.

"Darlin', he's going to want cash." Now she was looking really worried.

"I only have fifty dollars in my purse and the atm limits withdrawals to a few hundred." She said quietly. I sighed internally. I did get a cash advance for the job we did tonight. It is currently in my safe at home waiting to be deposited in the morning. Trying to ignore the look I know will be on Jaspers face if he knew what I was thinking about doing I opened my mouth.

"I got it covered. As long as you're good for it. You are good for it, right?"

"Yes! oh, yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome." My voice was dry as I reminded myself once more that as sexy as she was, she wasn't bed material. At least not for me. What she was, could be an inside source that I needed to finally get the goods on Royce King. I would help her out of her present difficulty and in the process I could pump her for information.

Smiling I turned down my street, a quiet row of small, single story, tile roofed homes that were reasonably well maintained but had seen better days.

"Where are we?" Bella asked, nervous again.

"My house, I happen to have some cash on hand. Besides, if Jacob finds your car we're going to have to meet with him to get it back. It'd be better for my reputation if he doesn't see me like this."

"Oh." She looked me up and down, and her expression turned faintly sympathetic as she met my gaze again. "He doesn't – know?"

"No." I replied refusing to acknowledge how sweet she sounded while turning off the ignition. "He doesn't know. You coming in? You can wait in the car if it makes you feel safer."

She took another look around at the dark street, which was deserted except for old Mr. Banner down at the corner with his dog, waiting for it to do his business.

"I'll come in with you if you don't mind." She said as she opened the door and slid out. I pulled off the wig and tossed it into the backseat and scratched my head vigorously before locking the car and heading for the front door.

I could hear the delicate swish of her satin shorts as she walked beside me trying to ignore the sound. Reaching the door I unlocked it and held it open so she could walk inside. As she stepped over the threshold I was reminded of something Emmett used to say to me on those few occasions when he'd let me in his room.

Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly….


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

The tiny white poodle that greeted us with a series of ecstatic yaps and jumps reassured me almost completely. The dog was adorable, right down to her pink, rhinestone-studded collar and the small pink bow tied over each ear. No straight man, much less a homicidal sex fiend, had ever possessed a dog like that.

"Hi Sweetheart." I crouched down, offering my fingers for the excited poodle's approval while Angie flipped on the light. A quick sniff and the dog had its paws on my bare knee, begging for more attention. It was a puffball of a doggy loveableness that immediately sent my opinion of Angie skyrocketing.

"Is she yours?" Just so there was no mistake.

"Yep, meet Josephine." There was that dryness in Angie's voice again that caused me to glance up at him. He'd lost the wig, I registered with surprise, and his hair stood up all over his head. Which with his heavy makeup, made him look just as bizarre as before but in a different way. The narrowed eye he gave his pet made me think Josephine was in the doghouse, figuratively speaking.

Royce always pointed out the trouble with dogs; they barked, they had fleas, and they messed the floor. But Angie's tone withstanding, it was clear that he loved this animal. Josephine was exquisitely groomed, right down to her gyrating pom-pom of a tail and little pink painted toenails, and displayed the kind of innocent exuberance that was only ever seen in a cherished pet.

"She's a doll." I told him sincerely.

"Yeah, well. This morning she ate one of my shoes." Angie gave the poodle a dark look, and gestured to the living room in which we stood. "Make yourself at home."

He clumped off toward the back of the house in his enormous high heels, turning lights on as he went. I stood up and looked around the room. The walls were white plaster and bare wooden floors, gold drapes pulled tight across the large single window that looked out onto the street. An enormous gold tweed couch with a rectangular oak coffee table in front of it and a brown velour recliner. The TV took pride of place against one of the walls.

I sat down and Josephine jumped into my lap and I noticed a faint smell of a floral perfume. Looking around the room for a clock I began to worry. Royce was usually home no later than three fifteen. I'd stayed awake enough nights listening for him to know. This meant, if my spy project was to go undetected, I'd have to be home by three, complete with Jaguar.

What were the chances?

There was no clock anywhere I could see. Too nervous to sit any longer, I got up and moved toward the kitchen. Josephine followed, trotting daintily at my heels, her toenails clicking on the floor. The kitchen was in an L shape where the obvious eating area had been transformed into a small home office. There was a metal desk with a computer on it. A chair, a pair of file cabinets – and a clock on the wall.

1:58. I had just over an hour to retrieve my car and get home before my absence was discovered. Anxiously I stepped back into the hall and glanced toward the back room, the bedroom where my host disappeared. At that moment Angie himself stepped into view, emerging into the bedroom from an adjoining room, a bathroom presumably because he was holding a towel to his head with both hands rubbing briskly.

He was wearing jeans but his chest was bare. The jeans were old, hanging low on his hips to reveal a washboard stomach, an innie navel and long powerful looking legs. Anyone who looked less like an Angie would have been difficult to imagine. He must have felt my gaze because at that moment he lowered his towel and our eyes met.

The makeup was gone. His bronze hair slightly tousled. His face was lean, hard-jawed, and handsome. Without the distorting effect of the eye shadow, his eyes, which were a light, almost translucent green beneath thick brown brows, were to die for. His nose was straight, albeit a small bump and his smile slightly crooked. In short, in his masculine incarnation, Angie was gorgeous.

"You are gay right?" The question just popped out, and I could have bitten off my tongue the moment it had. His gaze held mine for a long uncomfortable moment as his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed.

"Does it matter?" The look he gave me was cool, shuttered, and a little wary. Had I committed some unforgivable faux pas by asking? Probably.

"No. No, of course it doesn't." I assured him hurriedly. "I think that all people should have the right to be exactly who they are. Free to be you and me, and all that."

Truly I didn't care if he was gay, except that, from a purely female point of view…. In fact, though, now that I thought about it, it was probably better that he was. Otherwise he was too mouthwatering for my peace of mind, especially given my hanging by a thread marriage and my sexually deprived state.

Anyway I felt more at ease with him if I thought of him like a girlfriend. I can admire his physical attributes without the smallest risk of succumbing to them, which was kind of nice. My girlfriend is a hunk. The thought making me smile.

"Whatever." He gave me a narrow-eyed glance as if to access my sincerity and then stepped out of my line of vision. Moments later he reappeared pulling a faded, faintly ragged-looking black t-shirt over his head. Coors was written on the front.

"I really need to get home." I said. "How long do you think this is going to take?"

"Not long. Jacob will call when he has something. You want me to go ahead and take you home, and then call you about your car?"

"No. No." I was thinking aloud. "Royce will notice the Jaguar is gone as soon as he pulls in. I've got to have the car. And I've got to be home by three."

"You're scared of this guy, aren't you?" There was a faintly harsh note to his voice. I looked at him in surprise.

"Royce? No!" I recovered and shook my head vigorously. Too vigorously? I asked myself, and then answered. Yeah. The lady doth protest too much.

"Not usually." I amended with a grimace. "It's just – Royce is not going to like it if he gets home to find me gone." And that was the understatement of the year.

"Mrs. King, are you out running around on your husband?" The question was gentle. The glance that slid over me was speculative. And that reminded me of what I was wearing, or not wearing, like panties or a bra. I was suddenly acutely conscious of my nipples that were plainly visible and my legs that were bare until the very tops of my thighs.

Now that Angie had morphed into a hot looking guy it didn't seem right somehow to be wearing my collection of man bait in his presence. But then I reminded myself that Angie isn't interested.

"Wearing this?" I glanced down. "I don't think so."

"You look pretty good to me." He looked me over again before continuing. "What you look like, is someone who just rolled out of somebody's bed."

"I did. Mine. I rolled out of bed, shoved my feet into my shoes, and jumped into my car. Where I stayed until it got stolen."

"If you say so.:" he sounded skeptical.

"I do."

"Fine by me, do you want something to drink? I got water, orange juice, beer…."

He moved towards the kitchen, which brought him close, too close. Having him invade my personal space was unsettling. I moved out of his way nearly crushing Josephine in the process. Angie reached out to steady me and then noticed a smear of blood on his hand.

"You're bleeding." He said as I twisted my arm around to see the nasty skinned place above my elbow.

"Let me see." His hand encircling my wrist.

"It's no big deal, just a little scrape." I informed him.

"Well, you're going to have to humor me. I get all lightheaded at the sight of blood, see, so we're going to have to fix it up. Come on."

He led me into the small green tiled bathroom. The room smelled of soap. Droplets of water still clung to the clear plastic shower curtain.

"Let's get you cleaned up." He turned on the faucet and pumped some soap into his hands before none to gently applying it to my elbow.

"Ow! That stings!" I jumped and tried to jerk my arm back but he kept a tight hold. He was behind me, keeping me in place as he maneuvered my arm under the facet. It didn't feel much better than the soap and I wrinkled my nose at him in the mirror. His smile vanished and his eyes became unreadable.

"How old are you anyway?" The question was abrupt.

"Twenty-nine. What about you?" I pushed back against him in attempt to win free of his ministrations, then suddenly stopped. His body felt hard and having it pressed so close to mine sent currents of electricity shooting along my nerve endings. My instantaneous physical reaction to that both unnerved me as well as reminded me far too forcefully of the sorry state of my love life.

"Thirty-two. There, I'm done." He moved back probably completely unaware that I was painfully turned on with him standing so close.

"How old is your husband?" he asked handing me a towel.

"Forty." I answered as I patted my elbow dry.

"A little old for you, isn't he? You must be his second wife." He passed me a tube of ointment and opened a box of Band-Aids.

"Yes, I am? So what?" I retorted while focusing on my arm.

"So what happened to wifey number one? Did he dump her for you?" He tore open the Band-Aid and handed it to me.

"They were divorced years ago." I covered my scrape.

"Have you ever met her? Or talked to her, or anything?"

"No, I haven't. She'd been completely out of the picture since long before I came into it." I looked up at him with a frown.

"What is this, twenty questions?"

He shrugged. "Just curios about how the other half conducts their love lives."

"Oh, well, thanks for the Band-Aid."

"No problem." He replied as I followed him into the living room. Josephine nudging me with a cold nose the minute I sat back down. Angie stopped a few feet away, holding his arms over his chest and regarded me with a thoughtful expression.

"Okay, so let me see if I've got this straight: You rolled out of bed, stuck your feet in your shoes, jumped in your car, and drove into Charleston. In the middle of the night. Care to explain why?"

"Maybe I just felt like going for a midnight drive." His expression said yeah, right and I sighed.

"Look, I'm sorry about your car, I'm grateful for all your help, and if you can somehow get my car back for me I'll kiss the ground you walk on, but I really don't want to go into every little detail."

"So you are cheating on your husband."

"No, I am not." At the sound of my outrage he held up his hands in a placating gesture.

"Okay, okay. Hey, if you don't want to tell me what's going on, fine. It just seems to me like if your rolling of bed in the middle of the night to drive downtown in your underwear, then are scared to death your husband is going to find out, something is wrong in your life and – maybe you need a friend."

His voice gentled on that last and the smile he gave me was disarmingly charming. So charming in fact, that it caused a pang in the region of my heart. Goodness he was good-looking – and I wanted to trust him, I really did. He was right, at the moment I could use a friend.

"I'm wearing pajamas, not underwear." I said for the record.

"My mistake."

"How do you know my name?" there was a wary tone to that, because it was better to be safe than sorry. Impossible as it seemed, he might have some sort of connection with Royce.

Angie shrugged, and stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "I've seen you around. You own a dress shop out in Summerville, don't you? Flashy evening gowns, sequins, feathers, that kind of thing?" he grinned.

I smiled involuntarily at the idea of him coming into my shop. Though the things that I made were strictly for beauty pageants and things like that.

"What time is it?" I thought bringing me back to the disaster of the situation. Angie glanced past me at the VCR that displayed the time that I somehow missed before.

"Two-twelve."

"I've got to get home."

"I'm no friend of your husbands you know." He said watching me. "Nothing you tell me will get back to him. I promise. And you never know, maybe I can help you get whatever this is sorted out." he said before I stopped my pacing.

"I think Royce is cheating on me." I blurted out. I hadn't really made the conscious decision to tell Angie, the words had just sort of come out on their own, but the minute they had, I experienced an over whelming feeling of relief. I _had_ needed to tell someone. Someone to listen to my suspicions and tell me I'm being an idiot – or not.

"Ah." He said the single syllable drawn out. "And what makes you think that?"

"He's been sneaking out at night after I've gone to bed." I told him. "Tonight I followed him. I heard him leave the house and I jumped out of bed and followed him. I lost him on the street where I hit your car. I was turning around in the parking lot when those punks stole the Jag." I took a deep breath, no longer pretending that Royce was the perfect husband or that I was in the perfect marriage.

"Let me get this straight." He said again after the briefest pause while rocking back on his heels giving me a severe look.

"You were tailing your husband in your own car? A Jaguar? You ever think he might have just possibly glanced in his rear-view mirror and noticed you behind him?" I could feel my eyes widen as the terrible possibility sank in.

"I never thought about that. I just jumped in my car and took off after him." Coming close to panicking at the idea while mentally reviewing the drive.

"If he'd seen me, I would have known it, Royce is not subtle. Believe me, I would have known." I told him feeling a little bit better.

"It ever occur to you that he's going out for a late night snack or something?"

"And winding up on a street with tripe X bars and strip joints? I wish I could think so, but I don't. Besides, we – I have other reasons to think he's having an affair."

"Oh yeah?" He eyed me with interest. "Like what?"

"On Monday I found eight Viagra pills in his medicine cabinet. By tonight there were only six. And… And…"

"You weren't the beneficiary hmm?" He grinned easily reading my face. "Okay, I get the picture. So hubby's been sneaking out at night has he? Every night? About what time?"

"Two or three nights a week for the last month. A weekend night, usually, and one or two others. It varies. I usually go to bed around eleven, and he's out by midnight."

"You ever followed him before?"

"No."

"So…" He was interrupted by a muffled ringing sound. Digging his cell phone out of the front pocket of his jeans, he opened it up.

"Yeah?" I held my breath as the voice on the other end said something I couldn't quite hear. The Angie grimaced. "Shit." That scared me; it couldn't be going according to plan then.

"Okay, you do that. Yeah. Catch you later." He hung up and his gaze was rueful.

"What?" I asked faintly.

"Well, the good new is they found your car."

"They did?" Hope springs eternal.

"Too late though, it's been stripped. Engine, tires, even .the stereo. All gone."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for all the kind reviews!**

Chapter 5

"Oh no." I heard myself say, suddenly feeling very dizzy as the ground tilted at a strange angle.

"Whoa!" I heard Angie as he reached out to grab my arms stopping me from hitting the floor as he pulled me closer to his chest. I noted I had a handful of his t-shirt as I tried to regulate my breathing.

"Okay, don't panic. We can still figure out something to get you off the hook." He rubbed my back reassuringly and I allowed myself the luxury of being comforted. He was warm, and strong, and he smelled faintly of soap and cold cream and it felt so good to be in a man's arms again that I snuggled a little closer. As I rested my face against his heart he wrapped his arms around me.

I missed this; being held by a man. Even in this context, if felt so amazingly good.

"Like what?" my voice sounded despairing even to my ears. I closed my eyes. "I might as well just go ahead and kill myself and save Royce the trouble."

"That might be a little drastic, don't you think?" His voice sounded like he was smiling and I opened my eyes glancing upward.

"Not really."

"You know, most people in your situation would probably just get a divorce." Angie's dry observation so exactly meshed with my thoughts that I had to glance up again startled.

"I'm thinking about it." I admitted. To actually express the thought aloud was liberating somehow. "But, to me, divorce is kind of a big deal." Just watching my mother change marriage partners had traumatized me for life. As a little girl, I'd promised myself that when I got married, it would be forever.

"People do it everyday."

" _I_ don't." I said taking a deep breath and as much as I hated to do it I pulled myself out of Angie's arms. Wonderful as it was, it was time to face the music.

"I suppose I might as well go ahead and call the police. I'm going to have to report the Jaguar stolen now. Royce is going to have to know." The thought made my stomach churn. With fear? I didn't know how else to describe what I was feeling. When had I become afraid of Royce?

"How about I take you home." He started, pausing only briefly. "And you go on upstairs to bed just like you've never been out at all, and then I break into your garage? When your husband gets home he'll discover your car missing and call the police. They'll find signs of a break-in and assume the Jaguar was stolen right out of your garage. Doesn't make any difference where the car goes missing from, you know."

I just stared at him as hope did its eternal thing again. "Isn't that lying to the police?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Hey, crime happens. Spitting on the sidewalks a crime. So is murder. It's all a matter of degree. This particular one won't cause so much as a ripple. The question is, would you rather tell the police you've been in bed asleep all night or tell your husband exactly how you came to lose the Jaguar?"

I shuddered. It wasn't even close. "Okay, so I'll lie to the police."

He grinned at me. "Atta girl."

And then another problem reared its thorny head. "My purse was stolen too. Oh, I guess I can say I left it in the car, which is true. I did leave it in the Jaguar, so that part won't be a lie. Exactly."

"Don't think of it as lying. Think of it as telling carefully selected facts." His grin broadened. "Welcome to the dark side."

"What if the police find the punks who stole my car and they tell where they got it?"

"They won't find them."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just am. Believe me. Jacob and his pals run a tight ship, no violence, not hurting anybody, and the cops mostly look the other way."

I took a deep breath, and glanced over my shoulder. The clock read 2:15. I was out of time. And realized I, despite countless objections raised by my normally cautious, law-abiding nature, was out of options. The decision had been made: I was going to go with his suggestion.

"I need to get home. Royce is usually back by three."

"No problem. Let's go. I just need to grab some gloves."

"Gloves?"

"I don't want to leave fingerprints all over your garage when I break in." He was already heading toward the bedroom again.

"Oh." My voice was small. I couldn't believe that I was actually going to take part in a crime. The thought was scary, but short-lived as he was back in a moment, stuffing a pair of black knit gloves into the pockets of his jeans.

"All set?" he asked. I just nodded and turned for the door. As I did, I saw Josephine, almost hidden behind the recliner, happily worrying a magazine that she had between her front paws. That corner of the room was strewn with shredded strips of newspaper and glossy magazine pages. I remembered the pile of reading material that had earlier waited beside the chair, and my eyes widened. There was nothing left but confetti.

Apparently following my gaze, Angie saw the same thing.

"Damn it, Josephine!"

Josephine looked up at that, bright-eyed, tail wagging, the picture of innocence – if it hadn't been for the strips of shredded magazine dangling from her mouth.

"Hold on a minute." He said with a sigh, and swooped down on the offender. Josephine was scooped up without protest, and borne off toward the back of the house, her adorable pom-pom of a tail still wagging furiously.

"What did you do with her?" I asked with some trepidation when Angie returned minus the poodle.

"Locked her in the bathroom. There's not much she can get into in there, I don't think." He opened the door, then stood back to let me precede him outside.

The steamy heat felt good, not sure if the air-conditioning or my nerves had caused me to be so cold.

"Even if she did chew up your magazines, you're lucky to have her. I've wanted a dog for years. Royce wont hear of it." I told him over my shoulder as I walked down the short front sidewalk toward his car. The street was deserted now, except for the insects that fluttered around the streetlight on the corner. Lights were on in the upstairs windows of two of the houses; a few night owls were apparently still up. Overhead, a pale sickle moon and thousands of pinprick stars gleamed ghostly white. All in all, and in spite of the fact that I was sick with some weird combination of betrayal and fear, it was a beautiful night.

"Royce is smart." There was a sour note to Angie's voice that made me frown reproachfully at him.

"How can you say that? Josephine is adorable." A grunt was his only reply. He walked around the car to unlock my door for me, opened it, and then waited for me to get settled inside before closing it again.

"I'm so incredibly nervous about this," I said as he got in beside me.

"About what? Deceiving your husband or lying to the police?" his sideways glance was teasing as he started the car and pulled away from the curb.

"You're not helping." I said as he drove to the corner and then turned right.

"As long as you stick to the story that you went to bed at the usual time, heard nothing, and have no idea what happened to your car, you'll be fine. With your husband and the police."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have to do it." I grimaced at him.

"You can always change your mind." I only really considered it for a second.

"No, I'll lie."

"That's the spirit. Hang tough." He turned up the ramp to the expressway, heading northwest. The streetlights glared yellow, completely outshining the moon. A few cars whizzed past, but not many. It was too late – or early, depending upon one's point of view – for the kind of heavy traffic that usually poured onto and around Charleston in the summer.

"Hey, wait a minute. How did you know which way to go? You don't know where I live. Do you?" The glance he gave me was unreadable in the shadowy interior of the car.

"I assumed you lived out in Summerville near your shop. Am I wrong?"

"No-o, you're right. We live in Summerville." I eyed him doubtfully. His reply had been just a shade too casual – hadn't it? Or was I being paranoid again? It's not paranoid if they're really after you. The saying popped into my head uninvited though under the circumstances it seemed appropriate.

But Angie had fallen into my life purely by chance and since then he had put himself out to help me. More, he had proved to be kind and caring, a friend. And I badly needed a friend.

"Just tell me where to turn off." He sounded cheerfully unconcerned, and, because I really had no basis for them, I let my suspicions go.

"The first Summerville exit."

"Same as the shop, what's it called?"

"Carolina Belle."

"Maybe I'll stop in sometime. If you start carrying larger sizes, that is." A crooked smile accompanied his sideways glance.

"Actually, I only sell to the trade." I smiled too. "Pageant contestants, that is. And their handlers."

"Are you telling me that you've got to be in a beauty contest to buy clothes at your shop?"

"Basically." As a former Miss South Carolina, a veteran of pageants from the age of two on, and the wife of a rich and prominent businessman, my credentials for running a shop that sold custom-designed and fitted evening gowns, swimming suits, and costumes for use on the state and national pageant circuit were impeccable.

Carolina Belle was, in fact, quite successful, and I made a decent little income from it. Divorcing Royce would be bad for business, I thought, and with that gloomy reflection I felt my muscles start to tense all over again. Every other girl in South Carolina entered beauty pageants; it was almost a sport, like football or something. All the ones I took on liked to think that if they faithfully dieted and exercised and waxed and tanned and bleached and curled, they would end up like me: Cinderella after the ball and the wedding to the prince.

"Listen, next time you feel like following your husband on one of his nocturnal adventures, don't. You want him followed, call a professional."

If he was trying to distract me from my own gloomy thoughts, he succeeded.

"A professional? A professional what? Husband follower?"

"Private investigator. You hire one, he get the goods on your husband for you. It's a lot less messy than doing it yourself, believe me. And a lot less dangerous for you."

"A private investigator?" I wrinkled up my nose doubtfully. "I wouldn't know how to go about finding one. It seems kind of risky just to look one up in the yellow pages. And – well, you know how things are around here. Everybody's related to everybody, or something. Word would get out. There'd be gossip. Royce would find out."

"Not if you got somebody you could trust."

"There's nobody I trust. Not when it come to Royce." It was so true that there was a tinge of bitterness in my voice. Royce was a King, and a Carlson, and in South Carolina the Kings and the Carlsons, along with the Pughs and the Pettigrews were it. He was related by blood or marriage to half the population. The other half, like my own less than pedigreed family just didn't count.

"You can trust me."

"You?" I looked at him in surprise.

"I'm the Cullen half of Cullen and Whitlock, private investigators." He said almost apologetically.

"You're a private investigator? Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"I never would gave guessed." I said sounding incredulous. Angie – a private investigator? I guess it is no more mind boggling than if he were a bank clerk. In fact, less. Everybody had to have a job.

"Do people actually hire you to spy on their husbands?"

"All the time." His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

"Wives, too. You'd be amazed at how many spouses cheat. Sometimes I think most of em' do. What you're going through isn't anything out of the ordinary, believe me."

That was so depressing that I was momentarily silenced. I didn't say anything more until a big green sign just a few hundred yards ahead jolted me back to reality.

"This is the exit!" I thought he'd miss it since I warned him way too late. But he was already pulling into the appropriate lane as I spoke. Good think he'd remembered.

The blazer rolled down the ramp, paused at the red light at the bottom, then headed into the sleepy bedroom community of Summerville.

The tiny, picturesque town had an old resort feel to it. The streets were wide and perpetually shady, lined with huge bearded live oaks and masses of azaleas. I checked the time again and it was 2:50. This was really cutting it close.

I could feel the butterflies in my stomach. Returning home suddenly seemed about as appealing as a convict might find returning to prison. I was going to have to face Royce and lie, face the police and lie….

I really, truly, positively did not want to go home. I almost asked him to turn the car around.

"How long is it going to take you to break into the garage, do you think?" I asked trying to keep my voice even.

"Not long, a couple of minutes."

"Is that all?" it seemed a ridiculously short amount of time to circumvent metal garage doors and deadbolt locks. "The house is new, you know. The locks are pretty sturdy. Oh, and what about the alarm system?" If it went off, the police would come right away. He would be caught in the act.

"Was the alarm set? Did Royce set it when he left? Did you?"

"Royce usually sets it before he goes to sleep. But it wasn't set when I left – it would have gone off – and I never touched it. So it's off."

If Royce had set it before he left, he would have had to turn it off when he got back home. And whenever it was turned off, the alarm beeped a loud warning in our bedroom. If I'd been asleep it surely would have woken me up. Royce knowing that would have taken the safer route of not turning it on at all. After all, there was no real risk. Crime in Summerville was practically non-existent.

"Then were in business." I pointed out my house, an eight-thousand-squared food Greek revival mansion that Royce had designed and built himself, and the blazer stopped in front of it. The tall iron gates were still open – they stayed that way most of the time because it was a pain to wait for them to open electronically.

I looked over to see Angie put on the gloves and exit the car with a crowbar. I felt nauseous with the thought of what we were about to do. I was just going to have to lie as convincingly as I could and hope for the best.

I grabbed Angie's arm as we walked up the driveway. I reached under a loose stone and grabbed the spare house key. We reached the garage, a long, single story brick rectangle angled away from the street with a quartet of identical white car doors set into it, and paused.

"Which one?" he asked. I pointed to the second door from the left. He glanced at it and smiled. "Piece of cake."

"You've been great," I said, the words heartfelt, looking up at him through the shadowy darkness. "I don't know what I would have done without you tonight."

"I try." He smiled a slow, charmingly crooked smile that did something funny to my insides. Reaching into his rear pocket, he pulled out his wallet; he thumbed though the contents, and withdrew a white business card, which he held out in my direction.

"My number's on this. Next time you get the urge to go chasing after your husband in the middle of the night, call me instead."

"Will do." I took the card and glanced down at it. It was impossible to read in the darkness. "And I'll call you tomorrow about the damage to your car."

"Sounds good." He said and I hated to walk away, I'd much rather stay out here in the darkness with this stranger who had somehow morphed into my new best friend. I'd gotten more comfort from him tonight than I'd had from my own husband in years, but I'm out of time.

"I've got to go in now."

"Yeah." he was hefting the crowbar in his gloved hands.

"If you hear about me being arrested on the morning news, you'll know just how bad of a liar I am." I said as I reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, you were right. Tonight I really needed a friend."

"No problem." With one last smile I hurried inside and I heard the grating of iron on metal. He was doing his part by breaking in. Now all I had to do was go to bed, wait, and lie through my teeth when Royce started screaming.

I watched Bella go, and realized I felt like the biggest criminal left unhanged. She was sweet, unbelievably sweet considering who she was married to, and more vulnerable than she knew. It had become obvious in the last hour or so that when it came to Royce, she didn't have a clue.

But even if I told her, even if I shared everything I knew, she almost certainly wouldn't believe me. Besides, knowing too much might put her in a bad situation. She might not think he is dangerous but I strongly suspect he could be.

The best course of action was probably just to keep my mouth shut and let the situation play itself out. Hang loose and wait to see what developed. As long as she stayed clueless, she was probably perfectly safe. She could get her divorce and get off the stage before anything bad happened to anyone; I rationalized but the fact remained that I felt guilty as hell.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Royce was cheating on me. I knew it. Last night at seventeen minutes past three he came running up the stairs. The mere fact that he was coming upstairs at all at such an hour – to say nothing of the hurry he'd been in at the time – told me he missed the Jaguar as soon as he had arrived home, just as I knew he would.

I pretended to be asleep, although it was hard to keep my breathing slow and rhythmic while my heart was racing. I'd curled onto my side and had the covers pulled high and my eyes shut when he'd reached the bedroom door.

I couldn't help but open one eye the smallest amount before quickly closing it again but Royce hadn't noticed. For a moment he'd loomed there, both hands resting on opposite sides of the jamb, breathing hard. He had been wearing a dark suit, even in the dead of summer, he didn't believe in relaxing standards even in the heat.

He almost looked, well, menacing standing there. Which was ridiculous. Royce was many things but menacing wasn't one of them. At least it never had been. I held my breath waiting for the inevitable explosion, waiting for Royce to totally lose it like he did more and more often when he was mad, until I remembered that I was supposed to be asleep.

I started breathing again, in and out, real rhythmic – and after a minute or two Royce had exhaled slowly and had gone away. Just like that. Without uttering a word about the missing car. In fact, he said nothing whatsoever to me until this morning, shortly before nine A.M., the time he usually left for work and I was usually getting back from my morning run, which I'd skipped this morning because I didn't want to be the one to notice the car was gone.

He'd "discovered" the Jaguar was missing when he started to leave for work. He came roaring into the house and dragged me downstairs to view the broken door and empty garage bay and stomped and cursed and carried on just like I'd known he would – only about four hours too late.

Give the man an Oscar! And really, give me one too. I pretended to be surprised and bewildered and absolutely without a clue as to what could have become of my car. All the while professing ignorance and trying to calm Royce down while dealing with the fact that my marriage was dead.

Because if his little midnight excursion had been innocent, he would have had a hissy fit the minute he got home at seventeen after three. 'Gotcha' I thought, while gazing at Royce but the knowledge gave me no satisfaction. I didn't want to 'get' Royce I wanted to live happily ever after just like we'd been doing for the past eight years.

Only apparently he hadn't been so happy. And honestly nether had I. I realized, and finally acknowledged to myself. Maybe I never had. And maybe, with my infinite capacity for mentally spinning straw into gold, I'd made him the man I wanted him to be, and he'd never really been that man at all.

Then to add insult to injury, he threw temper tantrums like a thwarted two-year old. A grown man beating walls with his fists and stomping his Italian-shod feet on the kitchen floor was not a pretty sight.

My reaction to his histrionics must not have been all he'd hoped for, because he turned on me as we waited in the kitchen for the police to arrive.

"You seem pretty damned unconcerned about the whole thing." He snarled as I sliced a banana into the blender.

"It's only a car, Royce." Icy calm I pressed the blender button and looked at him. As he digested my reply his face almost turned the color of the trio of bright red tomatoes ripening on the windowsill behind him.

"Only a car! Only a car! It's a fucking Jaguar, you stupid…..! Of course you don't appreciate it. You don't appreciate any dammed thing I've done for you. You don't appreciate your fifty thousand dollar car, or your million dollar house, or this whole lifestyle I've given you that is light years beyond anything you ever had in your life, you with your trailer trash family!"

Just then two police officers arrived, which was probably a good thing because I was on the verge of abandoning my icy calm in favor of braining him with the blender. The good news was, I was so furious by that time, that lying to the cop was much easier than I had anticipated – 'no officer, I didn't hear anything.' All the while wanting to kill Royce. The bad news was, I no longer even wanted to try and save my marriage.

On second thought, maybe that was good news too. Royce and the cops ended up leaving at the same time, which meant that I'd been left home alone with a lot of nasty things to say and no one to say them to.

Which was probably just as well as I would more than likely take a baseball bat to Royce's head. No, what I needed to do was take a deep breath and think. There was a right way and a wrong way to end a marriage, or a smart way and a dumb way; however you want to look at it. If mine was going to end, I was going to do it the right, smart way. Which meant no going off the deep end.

I got dressed and headed for the shop. If my life was disintegrating around me then I was just going to have to deal with that later. I had an appointment with a ten-thirty client which meant I was pushing it time wise. And I still had to deal with the fallout of having my purse stolen: canceling my credit cards, replacing my driver's license…

It was only when I reached the garage did I remember I was without a car and had to call a cab. It was just like Royce not to remember, or care, that I would need a ride to work. Royce was all about Royce. He always had been, but I hadn't realized it until just recently because for a long time I was all about Royce too.

Whatever happened I was going to face it with dignity. I held my head up high and smiled. Evidently my smile was less than a success, though because as soon as I pushed though the glass and steal front door of the shop Vera, who was one of my assistants, turned from the rack of gowns and broke off in mid-hello.

"What's up with you?" She asked, her hand falling away from the sparkly blue gown. Clearly there was no point in trying to pretend nothing was amiss.

"My car was stolen last night, is the ten-thirty here yet?"

"The Jaguar?" Before I could respond she shrieked. "Were you car jacked? Or…"

"It was stolen out of my garage. Is everything ready for the ten-thirty? And where's Lauren?" Lauren Mallory was my other assistant a twenty year old former Miss angel of beauty.

"She called to say she's running a little late. She had a problem with her car." Vera paused and grimaced. "Nothing like yours though. Hers just had a flat tire. Anyway, everything is set for the ten-thirty. It's Tia Benjamin, by the way."

Tia Benjamin. Of course it would be. My day keeps getting better and better.

"Why don't you…" I was interrupted by the tinkling little bell that announced someone had entered the premises.

"That'll be Tia." I turned and headed for the showroom, needing to be alone for a minute. I snatched the Hershey bar out of the drawer, unwrapped it, broke off a piece, and popped it into my mouth closing my eyes in ecstasy.

"Isabella Marie, are you eating candy?" my mother's scandalized voice caused my eyes to pop open. For an instant I stared guiltily at her before swallowing.

"Yes, mother, I am." I popped another piece in my mouth.

"A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips."

"My hips are a size six."

"See what I mean?"

"Mo-ther."

"They were a size two when you won the title."

"That was eight years ago!"

"So are you planning to go up two sizes every eight years? I'm just asking because that's exactly what happened to me, you know. A little here, a little there."

"Did you want something?" I interrupted.

"I heard your car got stolen."

"Last night, how did you find out? It's only been about an hour since I reported it to the police."

"Mike told Jessica, and she called me."

"Oh." Mike was Jessica's husband. Most days, as one of the company's two vice-presidents, he worked directly with Royce.

"They stole it right out of your garage? You didn't see anything?"

I repressed a sigh. "I was asleep."

"I hear Royce had a cow." There was a little concern in Renee's voice. I wavered and had a sudden urge to tell her everything. Just then the little tinkle announcing someone's arrival sounded again. Saved by the bell.

"I have to get back to work."

"Bella, Tia Benjamin." Gah...I was having a really bad day and it was only ten-thirty.

"Take her on back Vera, I'll be right there." Vera left and I could hear her voice along with Tia's as the walked further away.

"Don't forget you're supposed to be at Jessica's at two. Did you remember a gift?"

"Malibu Barbie." It was Katie's birthday and she was turning four.

"She'll like that, is Royce coming?" the mere mention of Royce's name made my stomach twist. If we divorced, Royce would fire Mike, and Jessica, and Katie and six year old Tanya would have their comfortable lives ruined.

"I don't think so, he's busy."

"Seems like he's always busy these days." After reminding me one more time not to be late Renee left and I walked down the hall to the fitting room. Sure enough Vera was in the act of easing the glittering scarlet ball dress over Tia's head.

"I need a cigarette! Could you please hurry up?" Tia said when her head popped out of the dress. All four walls were mirrored, and as a result about eight images of Tia stared at me when I entered the room.

"This will take just a minute." I said as I took over for Vera and started to carefully zip up the back of the gown. It was truly a gorgeous creation if I do say so myself. One of my most inspired.

"I don't anticipate having to make any changes. It…" I stopped as the zipper stopped halfway up Tia's back. I could see my own frown in the many reflections. It was clear that the dress, that was custom made for Tia was not going to zip.

I could only stare in disbelief. I checked over everything myself. It was all as it should be until my eyes came to the strapless bodice.

"You got implants!" I blurted out. Tia nodded complacently.

"I had it done last Friday. Don't they look great?" she said turning this way and that admiring herself in the mirrors.

"The pageant starts on Thursday. That's only four days." It wasn't just the gown. There was the swimsuit too, and the black suit for the interview with the judges, and the little sundress for the opening breakfast with the press.

"Your whole wardrobe will have to be refitted!"

"Is that a problem?" Tia asked with a little frown meeting my gaze through the mirror. I thought of the size of the order, of Tia's chances of winning, of the small pageant world that would hear within the hour if I totally lost it and wrapped my fingers around my most promising client's neck.

I summoned up my most professional manner and even managed to smile, admittedly it was a rather grim smile but a smile none the less.

"Well, it certainly can be done, but it's going to take some doing. To begin with, you need to try everything on again and…"

"Bella, your wanted on the phone. Mr. King." Lauren, now well over an hour and a half late, appeared in the dressing-room doorway with the message.

"Thank you Lauren." I massaged my temples discreetly. "Vera measure Tia's bust, would you and mark the gown? Then let's go to the swimsuit. Lauren will help you."

"How long is this going to take?" Tia reached for her cigarettes which were lying atop her purse on a nearby chair. I could hear Vera remind Tia about our no smoking policy as I stared at the phone. The last thing I wanted to do right now was talk to Royce.

"Hello."

"You remember to pick up my cleaning?" Royce asked. I knew his voice so well, and yet today it was almost like listening to a stranger. A lying, cheating, louse of a stranger.

"Fraid not. It's kind of hard to stop by the cleaners when I don't have a car."

"Well, try to get it before you come home, would you? We've got that charity auction at the country club tonight, remember. Dad and Pamela will be there." I groaned as I remembered. The last thing I needed was to have to act the part of Royce's loving wife before his father and his father's girlfriend.

"I called the insurance company about your car, by the way. They'll be sending a loaner over to the shop before noon. His voice becoming friendlier though I suspected it was because I could hear other people suddenly in the back ground.

"Fantastic." My voice flat.

"You're mad aren't you? Because of this morning;I yelled at you and I shouldn't have."

"No you certainly shouldn't have. And thanks for giving me a ride to work today, by the way."

"I'm sorry, okay? I was upset about the car." His voice dropped. "I love you, Bella." My eyes widened. That remark was so totally out of character for Royce that I could only assume that either he wanted his secretary – Heidi who I heard talking to him – to hear it or he was trying to ease his own guilt about cheating by throwing a little verbal affection my way. But before I could reply he hung up, which was a good thing because I wouldn't have known what to say. He hasn't said he loved me in so long I couldn't even remember the last time and he never apologized.

Maybe I was just being paranoid but this was almost more suspicious than the Viagra. I realized then that I had to know, one way or the other, finally and for sure, without any doubt what Royce was up to.

With my stomach twisting itself into a pretzel I pulled my purse out from under the desk and dug for the business card I had dropped inside this morning. This time I would let a professional do the spying for me. Punching in the number I listened to the phone ring twice.

"Cullen and Whitlock, Private investigators." It was a woman's voice. I took a deep breath.

"May I speak to Angie, please?"

"Angie?" I could hear the confusion in the woman's voice.

"There's no Angie here, ma'am. You must have dialed the wrong number."

"Angie Cullen?" I persisted.

"Angie Cullen?" She repeated. "Are you sure?"

"Give that to me." I could hear a male voice in the background.

"Cullen." He greeted.

"Angie?"

"Out here in the workaday world, I generally go by Edward."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

"Angie?" Alice asked sounding blank.

I'd been standing in front of my desk shuffling through the papers on top hunting for receipts, when Alice answered the phone. I glanced up alerted by the name. Alice had been working for us for about a year; she was good at her job and at the moment frowning into the phone.

"There's no Angie here, ma'am. You must have dialed the wrong number." I was about to interject but Alice looked right at me, her eyes widening.

"Angie Cullen?" She blinked at me. "Are you sure?"

"Give that to me." and I took the phone away from Alice before she dropped it.

"Cullen."

"Angie?" I heard Bella's voice sound a little uncertain.

"Out here in the workaday world, I generally go by Edward."

"Oh." There was a tiny pause. "I hope I didn't say the wrong thing to whoever answered the phone. I mean, I didn't mean to cause you any trouble or anything. I never thought – it never occurred to me that you wouldn't go by Angie at work as well."

I couldn't help the smile that formed even with Alice watching me. "Don't worry about it. You haven't exactly outed me. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I need to make arrangements to pay for the damage to your car -." There was another one of those pauses – I could almost hear her chewing on her lower lip. "And – and I want to hire you to follow my husband." Her voice had dropped so low, it was almost inaudible as she finished.

"Smart call." My tone brisk. If this was as difficult for her as it seemed to be, I wanted to make it sound like business as usual. I'd been expecting Bella to call this morning about the damages to my car if nothing else, but for her to hire me to tail Royce was on the order of life handing me a little present.

Really, I now had every intention of tailing him anyway to be honest. If that scumbag was doing more than cheating on his wife I'd move heaven and earth to find out what it was. Getting paid for my efforts was even better. Paybacks are a bitch, I said to the mental image of Royce I had in my head.

"I don't have any idea how to go about this. What do I need to do? Is there somebody in your office I need to make arrangements with or – you understand I want to keep this completely confidential."

She sounded nervous, skittish as though she was ready to abandon the whole idea at the least hint of problem. "I'll handle it myself, don't worry. And nobody else has to know. I'll need a little more information though. Could we meet? Where are you now?" The idea of seeing Bella again had a certain appeal above and beyond my desire to learn everything she knew about her husband, but I couldn't think about that now.

"At my shop." She sounded more and more nervous. "I can't come to you. I don't have a car, and you can't come here. Royce might find out. I…"

"Okay." I tried to sound soothing before she talked herself out of it. "I understand. Isn't there a Kroger across the street from you? How about if I drive over there and wait for you in the parking lot? You won't have any trouble recognizing the blazer. It's the one with the big dent in the side." I tried being humorous hoping to relax her a bit.

"All you have to do is hop in. I'll be parked in the row right behind the Taco Bell, just give me a time." She paused for quite a while before answering quietly.

"It's Saturday, so we close at noon. I suppose I could meet you at about a quarter after…. Oh gosh, I can't believe I'm doing this. If Royce finds out…"

"He won't, not unless you want him to, that is. You're doing the smart thing here. Just keep reminding yourself of that, and try not to worry. I'll see you in the Kroger parking lot at quarter past twelve. Okay?"

"Okay?" I asked again when I was met with silence.

"Okay." She finally replied and I then heard someone calling her name to which she drew in a quick breath. "I have to go." and she hung up. I hung up much more slowly while thinking she sounded scared to death. Taking on Royce King was scary; the consequences of losing could be devastating.

"Angie?" Alice gave me a questioning gaze.

"Who was that?" Jasper demanded at the same moment. I shrugged and returned to my stack of papers looking for the receipts I needed. No receipts, no reimbursement.

"A new client. I promised her total confidentiality, so don't ask." This case I wouldn't share with anyone, even if Bella hadn't insisted I would have kept quiet about it. Jasper, who, having gotten busted out of the police force right along with me and having subsequently been let in on the whole thing about Emmett, was now as wary of Royce as I was. He would have tried his damndest to talk me out of getting involved with the Kings in any way shape or form.

Actually Jasper probably would have had a point, but with this tantalizing new opportunity falling into my lap I wouldn't have listened. No way in hell I was walking away from this thing now.

"Angie?" Alice said again before looking at Jasper. "The woman on the phone was asking for Angie Cullen. I didn't know the boss here sometimes went by Angie."

Jasper grinned widely. "This is someone you met last night, right? At the Pink Pussycat?" He then turned to Alice before continuing. "Edward was in drag for a case and was calling himself Angie."

"Damn, and I missed it! How come you guys don't let me go on any cases?"

"Cause you're way to fine to go poking your nose into trouble." Jasper replied before I turned my attention away from their sudden proximity. The last thing I wanted to witness was another Jasper and Alice make out session. I put the photos in a manila envelope to be delivered to Caius's soon to be ex-wife.

"Alright, I have to go. Alice you're on doggy duty."

"Uh-uh, last time you left her with me she went crazy. Attacked my purse like a pit-bull and wouldn't let go for anything and my cell phone was in there too, ringing like crazy, and I couldn't even get close. She chewed the strap clean off and it wasn't a cheap purse Edward. Besides you're the one whose grandmother sweet-talked him into taking her dog. In my book, that makes her your problem"

"Fine." I sighed. "Josephine!" I snapped my fingers but nothing happened. I tried again and heard nothing but an ominous grinding sound. Looking under my desk there she was gnawing at a table leg like a damn beaver.

"Josephine!" I scooped her out brushing the crumbs from my admittedly old but perfectly serviceable desk from around her mouth. Her tail went wild, and she gave me a look of pure doggy devotion and licked my cheek. Putting her under one arm I carried her out to the car.

I loved Grandma Platt but why I let her talk me into taking her dog when she moved into a retirement home was beyond me. But I had and now I was stuck. I even took the pooch to visit her once a week, which entailed a visit to the doggy beauty parlor beforehand so grandma would see Josephine looking nice.

But so far – and I'd been the proud owner of the purebred toy poodle for approximately three weeks – Josephine had been the canine equivalent of the bad seed. Despite her deceptively angelic looks, she had chewed up an armchair, a briefcase, a plastic trash can, a lamp cord, a bed pillow, a rug, and enough wood products to qualify for the termite hall of fame.

When I'd gotten back from taking Bella home I found my shower curtain in shreds which was why Josephine was at the office with me today. I was scared to leave her alone in my house, but now she started in on my desk.

"Bad dog." Though I already learned that those words were not, apparently, part of her doggy lexicon. Sure enough, she licked my hand in response. Dropping Josephine in the back was useless as she jumped into the front before I was even all the way inside.

Turning on the AC a blast of hot air shot out. Josephine stood up placing her front paws on my shoulder and proceeded to lick my ear.

"No." I jerked my head away and then gave up. I already knew there was no reasoning with her. Popping the glove box open, I fished out a dog biscuit from the bag and handed it to her. Driving out towards Bella's shop I could hear the sound of crunching and the certainty of crumbs as I tried to mentally tally the poodle's good points before the idea of doggy shelters took root.

The problem was the only good point I could come up with at the moment was that she was another thing to add to Bella's assumptions that made me look gay. I really just wanted Bella to be comfortable with me. I got the feeling that if she thought that I was straight, it could scare her off and she was already skittish enough.

And besides, I just couldn't let this opportunity pass by. It was a new link to Royce. What with being fired, getting divorced, and all the hassles involved with establishing a new business, my hunt for Emmett had been placed on the backburner lately. But I haven't forgotten. I would never forget.

Anyway it really was her assumption due to the dress, the wig, and the poodle so I really couldn't be blamed for that. And I hadn't actually lied. When she asked me if I was, I asked her if it mattered. And that was not lying.

Exactly.

But it occurred to me as I took the exit off the freeway that I didn't particularly like the idea of Bella thinking I was gay. Which wasn't exactly a good thing either. I parked my car and watched as she walked across the street. One hand blocking the sun from her view as she searched for my car. She was gorgeous.

Suddenly the truth hit me over the head like a hammer. I had a galloping case of the hots for my newest client, who was not incidentally my oldest enemy's wife. I was walking into quicksand here and if I had any sense at all I'd walk back out again before I was in over my head.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for all the kind reviews!**

Chapter 8

Ang… I mean Edward didn't look particularly happy to see me when I slid into the Blazer beside him. This, in a way, made us even because even though I had made up my mind to hire a private investigator I was having a little case of buyer's remorse. Had he not been here already I might not have shown up. But then again I would be on my own and I really didn't want that either.

"Hi." I said closing the door as Josephine jumped onto my lap from the back seat. "Hi Josephine."

"Hey." He sounded as glad to see me as he looked. "Careful, she'll lick you to death." He added as I scratched the ecstatic dog behind the ears. But there was something about his expression that worried me slightly.

"Is something wrong?" he met my gaze for a few moments before his face lit up in a crooked smile.

"What could be wrong?" He reached across and opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small bag and taking what looked like a dried up brownie and threw it in the back seat. Josephine who had her attention focused on the bag from the moment he pulled it out jumped in the backseat after her treat. Edward put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. I was able to watch him as he drove and found, he is in fact, just as good looking in the glaring light of day.

"Where are we going?" I asked not feeling anxious about the answer at all unlike last night. I no longer had any qualms about the man beside me. He was, quite simply, a friend.

"We'll attract less attention if we drive around as we talk. Put your seatbelt on." I flipped down the visor and tried to make myself as small as possible.

"You can quit trying to hide. The windows are tinted." He said as he glanced at me. "How's your elbow?"

"Its fine, nobody even noticed the band-aid."

"What happened after you went in last night?"

"Royce came home at the same time he always does – and didn't say anything about the car being missing until nine this morning."

"Oh yeah?" Clearly understanding the implication of that.

"Yeah."

"Actually I saw him go into the house. I decided to hang around for a while in case…"

"In case of what?

He glanced at me again with an unreadable expression. "In case you needed me. In case your husband lost it when he found out the Jaguar was gone, and started roughing you up or something."

"That was sweet. Thank you." I was touched.

"Sweet's my middle name." he then turned his attention back to the road.

"Really I don't think Royce would rough me up. He's not the violent type. But I don't see how you would know if he did."

"Hey, I'm a professional. I have my ways. So what happened at nine this morning when he supposedly made this discovery?"

"He threw a tantrum and called the police."

"You have any trouble there?

"By the time they got to the house I was so mad at Royce I didn't even care if I _was_ lying to the police."

He laughed. "That works." He continued to drive around before turning serious again.

"Calling me was a smart thing to do. Following your husband around yourself would only have gotten you into trouble."

"I found that out last night."

"There are worse things than getting you car stolen." The Blazer stopped at a light and he looked right at me. "Look, I've got to tell you; I have never worked on one of these cheating-spouse cases where the party who hired me was wrong about what was going on."

"I'm prepared for that. And I don't think I'm wrong, but I have to know for sure."

"You will be. Either way." Josephine jumped back into my lap and I wrapped my arms around her.

"I think she likes you."

"What's not to like?" I teased, giving him a wink.

"Nothing that I can see." But his response was barely audible. We were both quiet after that for a while.

"You'll have to tell me how this private investigator thing works, because I have no clue. Do you have a daily rate or something? Do you prefer credit cards or…"

"In your case I recommend paying in cash, just so your husband can't trace anything back to you in case he somehow gets suspicious and starts looking into things. Domestic cases have a way of getting real nasty sometimes."

"I'll bill you for my hours." He added. "It'll probably end up being two or three thousand by the time everything is said and done."

"And you'll let me know how much your car is to fix, wont you?"

"I'll add it to the tab." He said before diving into questions about my relationship.

"How did you and your husband first meet?"

"I met Royce the night after I was crowned Miss South Carolina. There was this big reception at the governor mansion and he was there. I was talking to the governor and Royce came up and that was that. He swept me off my feet. We dated for the year of my reign and the married after it was over."

"What were you, twenty when you met him? Didn't your family have any objections to you getting involved with a man so much older?"

"Eleven years isn't that much, and no my family didn't object. Are you kidding? There were just the three of us – my mother, my sister Jessica, and me. We were extremely poor. Royce was charming, handsome, not to mention rich. My family – my mother especially – was over the moon."

"What happened to your father?" Even though he had never really been there it was a bit painful to talk about.

"He and my mother divorced when I was little. I used to see him periodically – a couple times a year. Then he went away somewhere. I just saw him once more, and then he drowned a couple of weeks later." A lump – a stupid, stupid lump – rose in my throat, and I swallowed hard to get rid of it.

"That must have been hard." He said, but before I could respond Josephine stood on my lap and gave an imperious-sounding yap. All attention immediately on her.

"What?" Edward asked Josephine. Her tail wagged and she yapped again.

"She's got to go to the bathroom. Feel like taking a walk?" he asked spying a park up ahead. We talked and talked and I could swear I could feel this intense energy between us. It was almost unbearable.

"Do you need anything else from me? I have to be getting back."

"Numbers where you can be reached, as much information about your husband's daily schedule and usual associates. The kind of car he drives, including license plate number. Anything else I can get from you later. And one dollar."

"One dollar?" I said realizing I left my purse in the car. "I don't have any money on me."

Edward sighed and pulled out his wallet, extracting a dollar bill, and then handing it over to me.

"Not give it back to me."

"What?" I asked but doing as he asked. "Why?"

"Retainer. Congratulations, ma'am, you've just officially hired yourself a private investigator." Edward said as we walked back to the blazer.

"From here on out you want to be careful. When you're with your husband, behave as normally as possible. Whatever you do, don't get in a fight with him and tell him you're having him investigated. You could wind up getting hurt."

"Honestly Edward, Royce isn't" but he interrupted before I could finish.

"Emotions tend to run high in this kind of case. People do all sorts of unlikely things. So please do as a say."

"Okay, I will." I promised as I got out of the car. "When do you start?"

"Right now. There's some preliminary work I can do and tonight I'll be parked out in front of your house, waiting for the midnight ride of Paul Revere King."

"Funny." It was lame, but it made me smile again.

"Edward… Thanks." Our gazes met and the skin around his eyes crinkled as he returned my smile with a touch of ruefulness.

"You're welcome Bella."

After spending the day at Jessica's and helping out the birthday party and having yet another argument with Renee. It was time to head back home. I was in the shower when I heard Royce pass through to the huge walk-in closet that was adjoining to the master bathroom.

He didn't say a word and was gone by the time I got out. Heading downstairs I could see him standing in the living room waiting for me. He was in a classic black tux with his hair combed back, and his wire rimmed glasses.

"You're not going to wear _that_ , are you?" Royce asked while slipping his phone into his pocket. I looked down at the cocktail dress I was wearing. Until that moment I thought it looked great. That _I_ looked great.

"What wrong with it?" My throat felt tight.

"It makes you look hippy. Every bit of weight you've gained lately seems to have gone right to your butt, have you noticed? Well, too late now. We'll be late if you go change." He looked at me with mild disdain before grabbing my arm and practically propelling me out the door.

The ride to the country club was silent. Once there, I plastered a big smile on my face and settled in for an evening of hiding my mega-butt and pretending my marriage was wonderful.

"Here's the big guy." Royce stood up as his father made his way through the crowd. He was heavier than Royce and decades older but there was no doubt that these two were father and son. They exchanged a back clapping embrace as I got to greet his flavor of the week, Irina. She was a few years younger than I am, compared to Royce's father who was seventy-one.

"And how's my favorite daughter in law?" He asked smiling at this old joke as I was his only daughter in law. I lifted my check for his kiss and sat down feigning interest in the conversation. I sipped my ice tea and picked at my salad while concentrating on looking happy when I was feeling anything but. I chit-chatted with the wives of Royce's associates and realized all I wanted to do right now was to tell Royce to take a hike. I really do want out of this marriage.

On the way home I was surprised at how much I wanted to fling both my suspicions and my private investigator in his face. With the supreme density that I had come to expect from him, he seemed to have no idea that I was angry.

Soon enough Royce's phone rang and he was talking to someone about a supply of bricks, and I turned my attention out the window instead. I soon found my thoughts drifting to Edward. As we drove down our street I didn't see any sign of him or his Blazer. Of, course he could be anywhere – or nowhere. As dark as it was under the overhanging oaks that lined the street, it was almost impossible to be sure the he was – or wasn't – there.

Once inside the house, Royce – naturally – headed of the den while I went directly upstairs and stripped off my dress. I knew myself well enough to know I'd never wear it again. I was very self conscious of my hips which Royce of course knew. He said what he did to make me feel bad. He was good at that, making little needling remarks that stung forever. I knew I should just ignore them but I couldn't. He knew what buttons to push, and he pushed them with cruel glee.

I would take a long, hot bath, put on the ugliest, most unsexy nightwear I could find, and go to sleep. No more humiliating trips to the den to see when – if – he was coming to bed. No more worrying about what there was about me that turned him off. No more wondering if he was cheating. Finding out what Royce was up to was Edward's problem now. And that knowledge was a tremendous relief.

Still I could not help going into Royce's medicine cabinet and just peeking into the bottle of vitamins that sat on the third shelf. Pouring the contents into my palm, I took a quick inventory: mixed in with the yellow-and-white capsules were six blue diamond-shaped pills. Huh, he must be staying home tonight.

Before climbing into the tub I went back into the bedroom and flipped off the lights and the room plunged into darkness. I edged aside the heavy silk drape so I could see out. Beyond the low brick wall that fronted the lawn, the street was a sold impenetrable black. Was Edward's Blazer parked down there somewhere? Maybe. He said he'd be waiting but I had no way of knowing for sure.

I don't know how long I stayed looking out the window but what broke me out of my thoughts was the faint but unmistakable sound of the door between the kitchen and the garage opening and then closing again.

Royce had either left something in the car, or Viagra notwithstanding, he _was_ going out. All of a sudden I knew, _knew_ , that I wasn't going to be able to bear just waiting around for Edward's report. I certainly wasn't going to be able to calmly have my bath and go to sleep. I wanted to see what Royce was up to with my own eyes. I _needed_ to see what Royce was up to with my own eyes.

That would be closure, and for me to finally, once and for all, end my marriage in my own mind and heart. Closure was what I needed. I heard a low, vibrating hum I knew that sound too, the garage door was going up.

Galvanized, I ran for my closet and yanked on the first dress that came to hand. A bright red mini sort of dress I could easily slip on. Grabbing some shoes in hand before sprinting barefoot for the stairs. If Edward was out there, I was going with him. If he wasn't I would have to follow Royce again myself.

Flying through the hall, I yanked open the front door, leaped down the white stone steps, and sped across the soft, cushiony grass toward the small iron gate at the far corner of the yard.

Bright beacons lit the driveway, stretching toward the street. Royce's car rolled in near silence out of the garage, heading down the driveway. Would he see me? My heart began to slam in my chest as I glanced over at the moving car. No. I was far enough away that I was pretty sure he couldn't. But I was going to be too late…

The Mercedes turned left at the street exactly as it had the night before. I was forced to hold up just as I reached the gate, ducking behind the brick wall, drawing in great gulps of air as I listened to the caroling crickets and waited for the big car to pass. I heard the purr of the expensive engine, and the sound of tires on the pavement, and the Royce was gone.

Bursting through the gate, I bolted into the still warm pavement just as the Mercedes reached the corner. Its taillights glowed bright red as it paused at the stop sign.

Where was Edward? I looked around wildly. There, in front of the Cranes', a vehicle was parked. In the dark it was impossible to be certain, but it might be the Blazer. Or it might not. Taking a deep breath, I sprinted toward it just as its headlights came on, pinning me in their gaze.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

EPOV

I couldn't believe my eyes when Bella darted into my headlight beams like a startled deer. Before I could do more than slam on my brakes – running over a client was not something that was generally conductive to repeat business – she was yanking open the passenger door and flinging herself into the seat.

"Go, go, go." she said urgently, slamming her door. "You'll lose him." Royce's Mercedes was, indeed, disappearing around the corner.

"What the…." Shit, I had two choices. One, I could sit here and reason with Bella or two lose the man I wanted in the worst way, to follow. Against my better judgment I lifted my foot off the brake and headed out after Royce. I looked over at Bella and she was clicking her seatbelt and settling in.

"This was not part of the plan."

"Screw the plan." Bella said sounding breathless. "He's my husband, I'm paying to have him followed, and that means that I get to go along if I want to." The Mercedes was about three blocks away easing through Summerville's side streets toward the expressway.

"Oh yeah? And what surveillance handbook did you read?"

"He didn't notice me last time and I was in the Jaguar."

"You got lucky." She was wearing some kind of perfume; her hair was down, her eyes huge with excitement, glinting at me in the faint light from the dash. Her lips – those beautiful soft lips that kissed my check earlier in the day were parted as she breathed. Her dress stopped about mid-thigh clung to every curve on the way down. I did not need this. It was distracting to say the least. She was distracting.

"I'll stay out of your way, I promise. You won't even know I'm here." I snorted at the impossibility of that.

"This is not happening again _. I_ follow your husband, _you_ stay home. I bring you a full report and pictures, if warranted. You pay me. Got it?"

"If I'm paying, I get to do it anyway I want."

"Not if you're paying _me_."

"If you don't like it, you can quit. Just turn around, take me back home, and quit. I can always follow Royce on my own."

She had me there. No way in hell was I going to quit. I wanted to get the goods on Royce too badly for too long – and now there was Bella's well-being to consider too.

Although thinking of Bella as anything other than Royce's wife was a truly dumb idea.

"You pull this again and I will quit." Of course I knew that my not immediately turning around the threat was lost. And I watched as a small smile curved her moth and she realized she'd won.

"I wont be any trouble, you'll see." I had to fight not to roll my eyes. "Where's Josephine?" she glanced in the back seat.

"The only creature that could possibly be more in the way than you on a job like this is Josephine. I left her at home." In the bathroom actually. This time I take care to tie the (new) shower curtain out of reach. With the rug stuffed into the cabinet under the sink along with the toilet paper. All other toiletries had been placed in the medicine cabinet, there was no possible damage she could do. At least I hoped.

Bella leaned forward suddenly. "He's changing lanes. He must be getting ready to get off. There – see?" We had reached Charleston, and the Mercedes was indeed, pulling into the right lane. Traffic was fairly heavy. It was a Saturday night in July, after all, and there were plenty of tourists. I wasn't too worried about being spotted. Yet. It was when I had to get out of the Blazer and follow Royce with Royce's extremely noticeable wife in tow that the situation was going to deteriorate into a farce.

"I see." As I pulled into the same lane and followed him off the exit. It was only as we passed into a much better lit area that I noticed what she was wearing. She caught me staring at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Did you have to wear red? You'll definitely stand out in that."

"It wasn't intentional. I just threw on the first thing I grabbed out of the closet." I should be thankful that she was dressed at all, I mumbled to myself but clearly she heard it anyway.

"Don't be bitchy Edward." She said with a smile that was going to be my undoing. I was a sucker for that kind of smile. Well a sucker in general for letting what should have been a fairly simple thing – get more information on Royce, check it out, see if it led anywhere I might be interested in following – get so involved. If I had an ounce of sense, I'd turn around this minute and take her back home, give her the name of a couple other private investigators she could contact, and be done with her.

But even at the thought I knew I wasn't going to do it, so I gave up thinking for the moment and concentrated on keeping the Mercedes in sight as we left the expressway and made our way thought Charleston's crowded warren of streets.

"He's going to the same place. I knew it." Bella leaned forward again.

"If he's meeting someone, they probably have a regular place to be together." I glanced over at Bella.

"Why don't you let me take you home? I'll follow him – alone – the next time he goes out. One thing I don't need – and you don't need either, if you just had the sense to know it – is you creating a scene when we catch up to Royce and his cutie." Bella looked at me and the sudden glint in her eye surprised me.

"I'm not going to make a scene. I just have to know. Royce and I have been married eight years. That means something to me. I don't even think I love him anymore, but the fact that we are married _means_ something to me. I just can't walk out without seeing with my own two eyes that he's cheating. Can you understand that?"

Meeting her gaze I had found a new reason to want to stick it to Royce. A man who could cheat on a wife like this didn't deserve to keep her – but then, that was Royce. He always had been sure he could have his cake and eat it too.

"What I understand is that I'm nuts for not turning around right now and driving you home." I said and she made a face at me. As I turned a corner I realized we are on the street where I first ran into Bella the night before. The pink pussycat was three blocks down on the left. Would Caius be there again, blissfully ignorant that he had been busted by his wife? Probably. It has been my experience that people stayed true to their patterns.

There were approximately four dozen bars, strip joints, massage parlors, and porn shops crowded into a six block square. When I had been a cop, this area had been known as no-mans-land. Robberies, shootings, assaults, and various other crimes happened down here in multiple numbers every single weekend night when the weather was good. And in Charleston the weather was almost always good.

"I can't see him." Bella had one leg beneath her now, peering through the windshield at the press of cars. The street was congested with traffic; the sidewalks were thick with pedestrians looking for a walk on the wild side as part of their vacation.

"I can." No need to add that, if I did lose sight of the Mercedes, I could always follow its progress on the handy-dandy little device, stored at the moment in the console between the seats. That, plus the tiny transmitter I'd had the forethought to slip under the Mercedes' bumper not long after I'd dropped Bella off at her store earlier, made this particular part of tonight's surveillance not a problem.

"What's he doing?" Bella's voice was urgent.

"Parking. Sit tight. I would pull in right behind him, but no point in letting him spot us first thing." That bit of sarcasm earned me a withering look. I couldn't help but smile a little as I drove past the lot where the Mercedes had turned in.

Truth was, I'd made up my mind. As far as keeping Royce under surveillance was concerned, tonight I was going to have to write off as a loss. The situation, if it played out the way it very well could, had the potential to get explosive, and nobody needed that, least of all Bella.

The thing to do was to take Bella on a nice tour of some of the area's establishments – not the hole in the wall dives – but the more mainstream bars, then proclaim Royce lost, and return her home again safe and sound with the clear understanding that I would do the job on my own another day.

An alley up the street led to an out of the way parking lot that was used mainly by clients of the rent-a-room by-the-hour hookers. The lot was dark, its patrons were as bent on secrecy as I was, and the chance of encountering Royce in it were near zero.

"He'll be long gone by the time we get back to where he parked." Bella said while giving me an impatient look that said _'some private eye you are'_.I had to try very hard not to grin. Now that the evening's agenda had changed, I was starting to enjoy myself.

"I have an idea where he's headed." Actually, I didn't – this whole area seemed out of character for Royce- but I did have a good idea of where Royce _wasn'_ t headed, and under the circumstance that worked just as well.

"You do?" she sounded impressed, I noted as I parked the car.

"That's what us PI's do." Clearly she was in no mood to appreciate subtle humor as she was already reaching for the door handle as I turned off the ignition.

"Whoa. Slow down a minute."

"What?" she glanced at me, impatience coming through loud and clear.

"We're going to have to make some adjustments here. Unless your husband's a blind man." There was always the possibility, however remote, that we might encounter Royce on the street.

"What kind of adjustments?" I reached into the back, groped around the footwell behind her seat, and came up with the Angie wig, right where it had landed the night before.

"What…..?" She looked down at the hunk of hair like it might bite her.

"Don't you want to find out for yourself if blondes really do have more fun?" I grinned. She didn't.

"You're kidding right?"

"Nope, put it on." She looked revolted before pulling the visor down to see in the mirror.

"I look ridiculous."

"As long as you don't look like Bella King we're in business." I flipped the visor closed and reached over opening the door for her. "Let's go." 

Before we were able to make our way to the sidewalk a couple of guys stepped out from the shadows and Bella reached for my arm. "The punks that stole my car looked just like that." She whispered.

"They all look just like that." I answered as they gave Bella a leering look before walking by. And then her hand slid down my arm and over my wrist before putting her hand in mine all the while trailing fire every millimeter of the way. My fingers closed around hers automatically.

Soon we were caught up in a river of people walking down the main street. Bella was up on her tiptoes craning her head this way and that.

"I don't see Royce anywhere." She was keeping her balance by resting the hand that wasn't clutching mine flat in the center of my chest.

"I know where to look." We started walking and now her fingers were entwined with mine. I wasn't even looking for Royce and if we ran into him now it would be pure bad luck. I decided to head towards one of the more mainstream girly bars on the strip.

If he was meeting with a lady on the sly, Sweetwater's was the one place he wouldn't go. It was both too raunchy and too public for a lying, cheating, pseudo family man and pillar of the community like Royce.

"You really think he's here?" Bella asked as we went inside after I paid our cover charge. The question should have been hushed but had to be almost shouted to be heard over the pounding music.

"Maybe."

The warehouse sized front room was aglow with a disorienting purple light. The reflecting walls were the silver of aluminum foil. Pairs of woman, naked except for swirls of glitter paint decorating their already decorative bodies, danced back to back in Plexiglas cages about seven feet about the floor.

The hostess, a red-head in a silver thong and glow in the dark pasties, met us at the door and led us toward a purple leather banquette that stretched most of the length of the wall. Small rectangular tables stood in front of the banquette at approximately four foot intervals, leaving just enough room for a couple behind each table.

The hostess indicated our table; there was a lap dance to the left and some groping to the right of us. I let Bella slide in first, her eyes as big as saucers while she looked around.

"What can I get you?" when we were both seated a silver-thonged waitress had appeared, smiling at me rather than Bella, and bent deliberately close as she waited for my answer.

"Heineken." I answered glancing at Bella.

"White wine." The waitress smirked, and gave Bella a pitying glance before turning on her heel.

"Holy shit, there's Royce."

 _What?_ I managed not to say that out loud but whipped around in the direction Bella was looking.

There was Royce alright, dark suit, slicked back hair, wire-rimmed glasses, headed straight toward us with the red-headed hostess all smiles as she said something to him over her shoulder and two women, both lookers in thongs hanging on either arm.

It was all I could do to keep my jaw from dropping in amazement. Had the prescient SOB somehow gotten the drop on us?

"Holy shit" Bella said again, her hand flying to her mouth.

 _Holy Shit indeed._

But Royce didn't appear to have any idea that anybody who shouldn't be, was present – and I meant to keep it that way. I reached for Bella – her eyes big and locked on Royce – and slid both arms around her waist. Time for damage control. Fast.

"Climb up on my lap." I blocked her view of Royce. Bella's face was just inches away now. I had to ignore my body's immediate response, and to respond to this unforeseen emergency like the professional I was.

Bella did as she was told and climbed on my lap straddling me in a remarkably good imitation of the base position of the undulating lap dancer on her left. My self control did a kamikaze dive and suddenly Royce's presence became the least of my problems.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

BPOV

Hanging onto Edward's shoulders for balance I perched atop his lap and glared at Royce through the reflecting silver wall. My suspicions were right on. I'd known it of course, all along. Royce was with a woman – two women. Two nearly naked women who were all over him.

Although the pounding music made it impossible to be sure, I was almost positive I'd heard one call him Royce in a squeaky baby voice that sounded like Marilyn Monroe on helium.

My cheating husband was no more than ten feet behind me now, and if it hadn't been for Edward's restraining hands on my legs I would have dismounted and walked over to him and punched the no-good dirty rotten lying cheater right in the nose.

Can you spell 'history,' Royce? Watching him pull one of the Minnie mouse-voiced silicone queens close to his side and nuzzle her neck. 'Cause that's what you're getting ready to be.

Royce must have sensed something, or maybe felt the force of my gaze, because just then he glanced my way. To my horror his eyes fixed on me as I sat astride Edward's lap, sliding down my back in an appraising kind of way then glancing in the mirror-like wall in an attempt to see my face.

I panicked, then, realized that my image, like his, was faintly distorted by the silver panel, and the blond wig was probably enough to throw him off. Still… I dove for cover. Figuratively speaking of course.

Pulse racing, I ducked, without I hoped seeming to do so, by the simple method of bending my head and pressing my mouth to Edwards. Desperate situations called for desperate measures after all. I wasn't ready to confront Royce yet: I needed to sort this out in my head and with a really hardball-playing lawyer before Royce realized I was onto him.

Plus, I was still just a little afraid of Royce's reaction if he should discover that I was following him, although what he might actually do, I wasn't quite sure. Keeping quiet was the result of a gut feeling, not justified by anything expect a sixth sense.

But that sixth sense was giving me as shrill and urgent a warning as a smoke alarm in a house on fire. So I shook my false hair forward to hide my face and kissed Edward, knowing that, as my partner in this emergency, he would understand why I was doing it and play along.

His lips were dry, warm, and firm, and, I discovered, I quite liked kissing them, his sexual orientation notwithstanding. He didn't seem to have any problems with the kiss either. At least, he did not push me away or recoil in disgust. In fact, after one pregnant instant in which our gazes met, he even seemed to get into it. His lids closed and his hands slid up my thighs with a carnality that made my still open eyes widen.

He took over the kiss, handling it like a pro, slanting his mouth over mine and licking between my lips until, just from instinct, my eyes closed and my lips parted to let his tongue inside. He was kissing me so expertly and thoroughly that it was clear he'd had some experience somewhere. His arms went around me and his hands splayed over my back so hot they burned my skin even through my dress. There was a sizzle of electricity that went through me making me all soft and shivery inside. I got completely swept away putting my arms around his neck and kissed him back

"That'll be ten dollars." The waitress said.

What could have been seconds or lifetimes later I registered what she was saying and pulled my mouth from Edwards. The way I felt gave dazed and confused a whole new meaning, I thought opening my eyes to stare at him in dazzled surprise. His eyes met mine and saw that his pupils had dilated to the point where his iris looked almost black. A dark flush rode high on his cheekbones, and his lips were still parted from our kiss. He was breathing hard and I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against mine.

"Edward." I said trying to alert him to the waitress presence. His mouth tightened and his eyes as they met mine had a hot, sexy gleam in them that made my breath catch. Good lord he was gorgeous.

"Got it." his gaze flickered to the waitress. One hand dropped away from my back to dig in the rear pocket of his jeans for his wallet. The other joined it seconds later as his arms still around me but loosely now opened his wallet.

"Keep the change" Edward was speaking to the waitress but his voice was thick and his eyes were back on me. The waitress said something, probably thanks, and disappeared. Edward shoved the wallet back into his pocket, shifting beneath me in the process. I felt the nudge of that jeans-covered bulge against the most sensitive part of me and knew what it meant to truly crave something.

Forget chocolate: what I wanted with every greedy nerve ending was sex. With Edward. Then it hit me like a baseball bat over the head that this was Angie – _Angie_ – and he had a giant – really, truly enormous – hard on. For me. I blinked in befuddled, passion clouded surprise. What was the deal with that?

"Do you – do you go both ways?" I asked quietly as I tried to make sense of the whole thing and snuggled closer to him, my arms tightening around his neck. He stared at me, seemingly uncomprehending, for the space of a couple of heartbeats. Then I saw a flicker in his eyes as comprehension dawned, and he grimaced.

"No." he said and slid a hand around the nape of my neck beneath the heavy flow of artificial hair, pulling my mouth back down to his. Then he kissed me again. Oh, if I had ever been so hot for someone in my life I couldn't remember it. His kiss was hard and hungry and yet gentle at the same time, and I was completely bowled over by the warm wet urgency of it.

He explored my mouth with an expertise that made me dizzy while I kissed him back and pressed my breast against his chest and moved sensuously against the tangible evidence that he was experiencing at least this one heterosexual urge. His hands were under my dress now, both of them, cupping my bottom, squeezing my cheeks through the silky panties, and I melted inside. A little more of this and I was going to come…

Somebody lurched into our table. There was a tinkling crash and I felt a cool rain of liquid on my bare instep. I must have lost a shoe when my toes literally curled from that amazing kiss.

"Sorry." The man who'd been enjoying the lap dancer was on his feet trying to get out between the tables.

Obviously drunk, his attention focused on the near-naked woman who was pulling him by the hand, he'd stumbled into our table, causing my wineglass to topple onto its side, break, and disgorge its contents. Wine trickled over the edge of the table onto my foot. I shifted positions to escape the stream and turned back to Edward.

"No problem." He said to the man, looking past me.

"Can I get you some more wine?" The waitress appeared with a handful of napkins and started mopping. Being a little impatient I leaned forward to nibble on Edward's ear, just to keep him from losing focus until we could get back to business. The lobe was soft and tender and tasted faintly salty. But I was starting to sense some resistance from Edward.

'No thanks." He said to the waitress, sounding as if he was talking through clenched teeth. He was still turned on, I could tell – among other obvious signs, his instant stiffening when I swirled my tongue in his ear was a dead giveaway – but distraction was taking its toll. Then not particularly to my surprise, his hands closed over my hipbones and he lifted me off him.

"Edward!" I wanted to weep.

Despite my plaintive protest and clinging hands, he managed to slide out form under me, slippery as a fish and as my bottom hit the leather his hands were busy tugging my arms from around his neck. The waitress finished with her mopping, loaded the broken glass onto her tray and moved away. Defeated, I slumped down onto the banquette, Edward's hands gripping my wrists.

"Royce's gone into the back room. We need to get out of here while we can."

 _Royce_

Glancing around I realized Edward was right. Royce was nowhere in sight. I also realized that, in the heat of the last few steamy minutes, I had completely forgotten about my cheating spouse. Unbelievable – but the cause was leaning toward me, looking a million times better than chocolate ever had as he held my wrists in an unbreakable grip, and the situation was extreme when even the size and warmth of his hands keeping me away from him struck me as sexy.

Meeting his gaze, I realized that while his eyes still held a trance of that superheated gleam, his lips were set in an obstinate line and his jaw was hard. Clearly, Romeo had left the building. Meanwhile, I felt as if I'd been poleaxed. The intensity of the voltage that had leaped between me and Edward had robbed me of any outside awareness as thoroughly as if I'd been unwary enough to press my lips to a stun gun.

"Come on."

Apparently not subject to extended postmortem ruminations of his own, Edward slid out from behind the table, picked up his beer and took a quick swig, then pulled me out after him, one hand wrapped around my wrist as if he was afraid I'd try to escape. Still feeling vaguely dazed I fell in with the program. As the same time I tried to figure out what, exactly, had just happened. My mind reeled as I considered. I'd caught Royce with his hand in the cookie jar, and kissed and been kissed by Edward cum Angie, all within the space of maybe ten minutes. The unsettling thing was, the events seemed to be assuming almost equal importance in my mind. When I stumbled, I glanced down to see what had tripped me up, and discovered that the offending object was one of my own shoes. I wasn't even surprised to find that I was had been on the verge of leaving in my bare feet without even realizing it.

"What's the hold up?" as I stopped, Edward looked had looked around with a frown.

"My shoes."

I tried to reach for one as it was under the table but was having trouble. Edward swooped down picked them both up and to my surprise me as well and walked out the door. He stopped just past the line waiting to get in setting me down and handing me my shoes.

"Here." I leaned against the smooth painted brick of Sweetwater's out wall to slip them on while what seemed to be the entire population of several states went by around us and he created a jostle free zone for me with his body. As I stood on first one foot and then the other, he watched without saying a word. When I straightened, shoes in place, his gaze met mine. The sizzle in his eyes was as tangible as the heat in the bricks I leaned against.

Hmmm. Something here was not right.

Edward broke off eye contact then and started walking, hauling me after him, plowing through the throng on the sidewalk like a wide receiver with the football tucked under his arm and the goalpost in sight. I followed in the wake he created, entertaining a variety of thoughts in quick succession as, with dispassionate assessment, I eyed his retreating back.

He had nice shoulders, broad and muscular in a navy tee that equally showed off equally nice arms. He had a nice butt, very sexy in well worn jeans. He was tall and handsome. Any woman would salivate.

So it wasn't surprising that I wanted him. In fact it would have been surprising if I didn't. I was a normal red-blooded woman after all, and he is a gorgeous guy. To say nothing of the fact that I was in a marriage so dead rigor mortis was about to set in and, to clench matters, was also extremely sexually deprived.

But he wanted me too. I wasn't mistaken about that, and that was where the question lay. My thoughts curled around boat-sized heels and blond wigs and mountainous boobs and pink leashes and Josephine. And I tried to recall just what he'd said when I had asked him point blank if he was gay.

I couldn't remember exactly. But the short answer, as recorded by my brain, had been yes. Just a little while ago, when I'd asked him if he went both ways, he'd said no. And punctuated that by kissing me until my brain was practically fried.

So where did that leave me? I wasn't sure but frustrated came to mind.

"Hold on just one minute." I said digging in my heels. We were at the alley now, headed toward the lot where the Blazer was parked. It was dark and shadowy and smelled of booze and garbage and scary as all get out but I scarcely noticed. My attention was all for the man pulling me along after him as if I'd been a recalcitrant Josephine.

"What now?" the various lights from the establishments we'd left behind created a reddish glow at the mouth of the ally that allowed me to see his expression. He looked almost – wary.

"What did you mean, no?" I narrowed my eyes at him. In the corner of my eye I saw some movement and jumped and skittered towards Edward. He released my wrist to wrap an arm around my waist and pulled me to his side, his gaze focused on the threat that was similair to the group of punks we saw earlier in the night.

"You want to have a conversation, wait till we get in the car."

With that curt response Edward was off again, pulling me behind him, not pausing until we reached the Blazer. With more haste than courtesy he bundled me inside, slammed the door behind me and then got in himself.

Then, without a word, without so much as a glance, he started the car. He was reaching for the button that controlled the lights when I reached over and turned off the ignition.

"What the…" As he glanced at me in surprise, I leaned across the console and pressed my lips to his.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

BPOV

His response was instantaneous and unmistakable. His lips molded themselves to mine and the blaze of heat that flared between us told me everything that I needed to know. He tasted faintly of beer. His kiss was hungry, insistent, arousing. An instant memory of his hands, hot as the slid up under my dress threatened to make me forget my purpose.

I wanted him, and he wanted me too. No doubt at all remained. Shaken but satisfied at the result of my impromptu research, I lifted my mouth from his before I completely lost my head, breaking off the kiss even as he pulled me across the console and onto his lap.

"You're not gay." My voice was faintly breathless, okay a lot breathless but also accusing. His hand still gripped my waist, mine resting on his shoulders. I was half lying, half sitting, with my back cradled by his arms. Our faces just inches apart. I could feel the warmth of his breath feathering across my lips. Unfortunately it was too dark to read his expression. But as I imagined it – he was no doubt looking guilty as hell.

"You – are – not – gay." I said it again with emphasis as to drive home the point. That seemed to make an impression. He took a deep breath and straightened, pulling me up with him and then lifting me back over the console into my own seat. Once there, I turned to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"I never said I was." His voice was cool as a glass of lemonade. And to my annoyance, as he spoke, he restarted the car as though nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened. The lights came on, bouncing off the wall in front of us to reflect his face. He did not look guilty, he looked – he looked as calm as if we were discussing the vagaries of the weather.

"You did too." Once again searching my mind for his exact words. "When I asked you before you said… you said…."

"I asked you if it mattered." He pulled out of the parking lot and turned down the alley. The beams illuminated graffiti-adorned brick walls, a dumpster with a partially open lid, piles of litter. He glanced at me. "If I remember correctly, you said it didn't."

"Well _now_ , it does."

"So I'm not gay." He slid me another one of those calm looks before edging out into the still heavy traffic. "Put on your seat belt."

My lips compressed and I mentally counted to ten while putting on my seatbelt. "Are you a cross-dresser?" He gave a grunt that might have been laughter.

"Only when I have to be. As far as I'm concerned, panty hose could have been invented by the Spanish inquisition. How women wear those things is beyond me. Bras are a bitch too, but I was really starting to get into the shoes." His lips twitched.

"You'll notice I'm not laughing." In fact I was starting to feel like a fool for ever believing he was gay in the first place. How could I have been so blind?

"Let me make sure I understand this time: You're straight, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Pretty much?"

"Well, actually about 100 percent."

"You lied to me." I said as he looked in my direction.

"I didn't lie. You made assumptions, and I just didn't correct them."

"Oh, that makes it all better."

"Look, if you'd known from the beginning I was straight, would you have let me help you?"

"Are you actually attempting to claim that you lied to me for my own good?"

"That's pretty much it in a nutshell." He sounded almost please at being presented with such a tidy summing up.

"Yeah right, so you want to explain the whole Angie thing?"

"I was working. Undercover, you might say. The guy I was tailing – you met him in the parking lot last night – is into drag queens. Ergo Angie." He shrugged, looking unrepentant, and his eyes twinkled at me infuriatingly.

"What about Josephine? Is she even yours?"

"Until three weeks ago, Josephine belonged to my grandmother. Then grandma moved into a retirement home and I inherited a dog, compete with collar, leash, and a weekly appointment with the groomer."

"Is that the truth?"

"Yes." A smile touched his lips as he glanced at me.

"Cross my heart."

"Well that certainly clenches it for me." I said with a snort.

"I don't know why you're mad. You liked Angie."

'Not to make out with!" As soon as I said it, I could have kicked myself. The dignified thing to have done would have been to ignore those breath-stealing kisses completely.

"Ah. Good point." He gave me a look that made me hot all over again until I remembered he had deliberate deceived me. He continued in a semi-apologetic tone. "At the time, making out with you didn't seem to be an option."

"It's not an option now, either." I felt like a fool. "What happened back there was a one time thing that was entirely dictated by unfortunate circumstances. So don't start thinking your about to get lucky, because your not."

"I swear, if you hadn't just now put the idea in my head, such a thought never would have crossed my mind." He shook his head virtuously. When I gave him the _yeah right_ look he grinned.

"But in the interests of full discloser, I think I ought to mention that we have a strict company policy against. 'getting lucky' with clients. Of course, being that I'm the boss, I guess I could make an exception if you asked me real nice."

"Not a chance. I'll give you credit though: pretending to be Angie as a come-on technique is original, if nothing else. But just so you know, from a woman's point of view, being lied to pretty much sucks."

"Just for the record, I think I should point out here that you're the one who came on to me. You kissed me first back there, not the other way around, remember? And if I'd been trying to get you into bed, you'd have known it a whole hell of a lot sooner." A beat went by before he spoke again.

"Besides, I never actually lied."

"Okay, that's it. You lied and you know it. And if you want my opinion, deceiving me like that was a pretty rotten thing to do."

"Darlin', you're losing sight of the big picture here. Who I choose to sleep with doesn't matter. What matters is that here in the down and dirty divorce wars I'm on your side."

"What matters is you lied."

A swaying eighteen-wheeler whizzing around us so fast it made the car shake distracted our attention before the conversation could deteriorate further. We were at the Summerville exit and the Blazer was easing off the expressway into the dark, deserted hush of the town. A glance at the dashboard clock told me that it was 1:43am and sent my thoughts careening back to the larger problem: Royce.

Tonight I had plenty of time, a good hour and a half before my cheating husband snuck back in the house. Should I pack and leave before he even got home? Or wait with folded arms like a wife in a comic strip until he got in and let him have it with both barrels? Or should I bite my tongue, bide my time, and see a lawyer before I walked out? The idea of even having to set eyes on Royce again, much less spend a few more nights under the same roof with him, made me sick to my stomach and almost made the decision for me.

But I'd been cool so far and, I thought, had made all the right moves. I didn't want to lose the advantage now. Royce would be ruthless about finances, ruthless about everything. I'd seen him in operation on the golf course, the tennis court, and in business deals when things got sticky and always, he played to win. He would play to win in our divorce too.

Glancing at the man beside me I put thoughts of Royce to the back of my head. One problem at a time. Edward had deliberately deceived me over the Angie thing, but he'd also been a strong shoulder for me to lean on when I'd needed one. He made me laugh and made me hot at a time I hadn't thought either was possible, and for that I was grateful.

The idea that I wouldn't be seeing him again caused a pang, much as I hated to admit it even to myself. Still, his job was done. Thanks to him, tonight I had seen what Royce was up to with my very own eyes. As for anything else – such as a quick hop in the sack maybe, just because I wanted to more than I had wanted anything in forever – well, the cold hard truth was that I needed another man in my life like I needed a bad case of poison ivy.

Especially another lying man.

"Okay, you're right, I guess it doesn't really matter that you lied." My voice had lost the angry edge to it. "You did what you were hired to do, and I recognize that. Seeing as how this whole thing got resolved so quickly, I'll understand if you want to impose some kind of minimum charge for your time." Our gazes met and Edward glanced at me with a frown. "Add the cost of fixing your car, or course. If you'll let me know how much it all is, I'll see that you get your money right away."

"Whoa, wait a minute. Not so fast."

"What?"

"I don't think this whole thing is resolved. A rich, prominent man like Royce doesn't cheat on his wife by going to someplace like Sweetwater's and hooking up with the girls there. He was way, way too visible, almost like he wanted to be seen. A man cheating on his wife hides out in a hotel or an out-of the way apartment, or meets his honey on a business trip. Trust me, I know. I investigate this kind of thing for a living."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying something doesn't make sense. I don't know what Royce was doing at Sweetwater's but I don't think he was hooking up with anyone." A sudden memory made my eyes widen.

"He didn't take any Viagra tonight. There were still six pills mixed in with this vitamins. I counted when we got home from the club, and he never came upstairs again." A half-smile quirked up one of the corners of Edward's mouth. "Well, there you go. Proof positive."

"Do you think it's possible that Royce isn't cheating?" Funny, the idea didn't bring any upsurge of happiness with it. In my heart I knew our marriage was long over. It had taken a combination of Royce's behavior tonight and my sizzling reaction to Edward's kiss to make me realize that.

"Possible? Anything's possible. But I don't think so. I'm pretty sure he's cheating; we just haven't caught him yet. He had another reason for going to Sweetwater's tonight. I just haven't figured out what it is." He sounded thoughtful.

"Why don't you let me keep looking into this for a few more days?"

 _If I did, I could keep seeing you for a few more days._ The thought caught me unaware but instead I responded shaking my head.

"I don't think so, that would require me to be civil to Royce and acting as everything between us is hunky-dory for a few more days, and I just don't think I can do that. Besides, you lied to me."

"You want me to apologize for Angie? All right, I apologize. Next time I run across a beautiful damsel in distress while I'm dressed like one myself, I'll jump her bones immediately just so there's no mistake."

I glared at him, then the sheer absurdity of the image he'd painted made me smile, albeit reluctantly. Seeing me smile caused him to smile too.

"That's better." His smile was coaxing. "Don't you want to know who the lucky recipient of all that Viagra is?"

Ugh, did I want to know? The possibilities were endless, now that I considered them. Was it one of the women who worked for him? Heidi, his administrative assistant, came immediately to mind. She was young, pretty, and appeared to think Royce hung the moon. Or maybe it was one of our friends. Or a neighbor. Or anyone. It could be anyone at all. Just thinking about it made me sick. Unless I learned the truth, I would never be able to look at any of them in quite the same way. I would always wonder.

"How long do you think it would take?" My smile gone.

"Probably no more than a week." Could I bear living with this burden – and Royce – for a week or more? I'd been so in love with him and now I wanted nothing more than to walk away and never have to see him again – but of course nothing in life was ever that easy.

"I could use that time to find a lawyer." I chewed on my lip. It was important to think of Jessica, and Renee as well as my own financial security. Knowing Royce, he would do his best to see that they all ended up back where we started. He would love that.

"Good idea." Edward pulled up in front of the house, doused the lights and engine, and then looked up at me. "You realize that once Royce finds out you're filing for divorce he's going to play to win. You need to make sure your lawyer is someone you can trust."

"All the lawyers I know are Royce's friends."

Edward grimaced. "That's a problem. Want me to check around, see if I can find someone who's up to taking on Royce?"

"Would you?"

"With pleasure." With that, the last of my hostility towards Edward over the discovery that Angie was a fraud wafted away. Edward was still a shoulder to lean on, and I was glad, really really glad, that he wasn't walking out of my life just yet. Still, if he was going to be staying on for a while, I wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily.

I shot him a severe look which he didn't see. He was starting out through the windshield, apparently lost in thought.

"You did your best to deliberately deceive me. Admit it." The look he gave me was almost startled.

"I did?"

"About Angie."

"Oh." A beat went by. "Maybe I was a little bit deceptive." I raised my eyebrows at him and he looked down smiling and shaking his head.

"Fine. You want to hear me say it? I lied."

"That's better. Don't do it again." He grinned at me and I realized at some point after he parked the car, he had picked up my hand. Or maybe I picked up his, I couldn't be sure really.

But we were joined now, my fingers laced with his long capable ones. I felt the strength of his hands clasping mine, felt the heat radiating from his palms to mine, and my pulse rate shoot to double time. Which felt nice, but probably wasn't a good thing. My life was chock-full of man trouble already.

"I'm not going to sleep with you, you know." I said, it was best to lay it on the line – for myself as well as for him – even if I did feel a little prickle of regret at turning my back on what I was pretty sure would be really phenomenal sex. By saying it aloud, I fixed the ban firmly in my own mind.

His lips compressed. His hand tightened on mine. Our gazes met. His thoughts were impossible to read in the darkness, but the hard grip of his fingers said a lot.

"It's usually considered good manners to wait until you're asked."

"I just want to make sure we have everything clear."

"Clear as crystal." He released my hand, but I could feel the lingering warmth of his grip even as I pulled my hand back to the neutral territory of my lap.

"Okay. Good. I'm going in now." I opened the door and the interior light came on. A glance over my shoulder told me the he was watching me get out. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was in a firm line. His expression was hard to decipher, but it certainly couldn't have been described as warm and friendly. Or anything close.

"I'll be in touch. You've got my number if you need me." he said. His voice was definitely businesslike. My warning had set the right, necessary tone. To my own annoyance, I found myself regretting that I had ever opened my mouth on the subject as I headed inside.

 _Go back_

I listened to the little voice in my head and made a face at myself in the bathroom mirror.

"I'd love to." I answered aloud. "But sleeping with him is a really dumb idea." It occurred to me that when people started talking back to the little voices that they heard, that's when they knew they were really in trouble. So I wasn't going to listen to the little voice anymore, much less talk to it. Even if I really, really wanted to do what it suggested. My inner self obviously had no idea how complicated things could get if I gave into its urging.

The thing with Edward tonight was the closest I had to come to having an orgasm in a year. More than that really when I thought about it. Many years, was more like it. Royce's lovemaking had been perfunctory for some time before he'd finally given up the ghost altogether. Call me difficult but I wasn't able to get off in the five minutes tops it took Royce from the first peck on the lips until he rolled over and went to sleep.

Yet one more reason to get rid of him. Royce was lousy in bed. At least, I thought he was. I didn't really have much to compare him with – which brought my thoughts back full circle to Edward.

I glared at the tiny line between my brows as ferociously as if it were the source of my wayward thoughts, and scooped Mudd out of a jar, slapping some over the wrinkle before slathering it lavishly over the rest of my just washed face.

 _Go back outside._

Nope, I was not going to let the fact that I was staring divorce in the face get me down, I told myself determinedly. I was not going to start hearing voices. I was not going to have a nervous breakdown. I was not going to sleep with Edward. I was not going to crack a baseball bat over Royce's head. And I was definitely not going to gain a hundred pounds or so.

Get thee behind me, chocolate, I thought glancing over my shoulder in some regret as the last of the Hershey's kisses I kept in my lingerie chest for emergencies swirled down the toilet, where just minutes ago I'd gathered the will power to dump them.

Then, in a hasty mental aside just in case some listening spirit took that too seriously, I amended that to 'Get thee gone, chocolate' I certainly didn't want the rejected calories ending up on my already substantial enough behind.

In any case, I was gong to get my stress release in a less destructive way from now on. And no, not from an Edward induced big o. Although I was really starting to regret not having gone for it while I had the chance, I comforted myself with the knowledge that I had done the right thing.

Aromatherapy might not be as much fun, but it came with a lot fewer drawbacks. The most important of which was, a man wasn't involved. The smell of the chamomile bath salts was soothing, just as the printing on the packet had promised. I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the aroma as steam filled the bathroom. As soon as the bath was ready, I would slide down into the hot water, immerse myself in the calming scent, and press the button that would activate the Jacuzzi. Bliss. Or at least, as close to bliss as I could get under the circumstances.

 _Go outside now._

Take that, stress, I thought pretending the little voice was not there as I inhaled again with great determination. The steam was sweet smelling but – unsuccessful. So far, anyway. I resolutely refused even to think about checking out my lingerie chest just to make sure that no Hershey's kisses had been left behind. Instead, I returned my attention to the task at hand.

Taking off my clothes I put on one of the slinky nightgowns that I now detested and finished with the last of the Mudd. Slathering it down the middle of my nose like peanut butter on bread. Rinsing my fingers, I looked at myself in the mirror again. With hair swept up into a ponytail high on the top of my head and the mask covering every bit of my face now except for white circles around my mouth and eyes. Was it Cindy Crawford who'd said looking good was the best revenge?

No matter. It was now my mantra. Every time I even started to think of Royce and his extracurricular activities I was going to do something positive for myself. Like treat my skin to a mask. Or scrub my teeth with super-whitening paste. Or wax my legs.

Or take a really hot relaxing bath foaming with calming herbs and go to bed. Where I was going to get right to sleep and not, not, not dream of men. Not Royce the jerk or Edward the hunk.

With another glance in the mirror I could see the mask was already starting to harden. It was crisping around the edges, and the cracks were starting to appear in my cheeks. A few more minutes and I could rinse it off, slather on moisturizer, wax my legs and get into the tub.

I turned off the water as it was near the brim of the tub, rescued the floating jar of leg wax that had been warming in the water and inhaled deeply and turned back towards the sink

I took a single step and stopped dead. A man was staring at me through the bathroom mirror.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks for all the kind reviews!**

Chapter 12

BPOV

A man with his back pressed flat against the bedroom wall outside my bathroom door. A man with a black ski mask pulled down over his face so that I could see nothing of him except for the dark glint of his eyes through the round holes. A man who was at that very moment watching me watching him. Then he stepped into the doorway, filling it, blocking all hope of escape.

"Hello Isabella." he said as I stood frozen to the spot. The caressing note in his voice and the gloating way he looked me over sent chills racing down my spine. In that split second I realized that I was facing every woman's worst nightmare come true: a rapist, or maybe even a killer. At the same time I registered with the tiny part of my mind that was not absolutely numb with terror that he was big, not so much tall but burly, and dressed in all black and carrying a gun which he held negligently in one surgical-gloved hand.

A gun to use on me.

He started to lift it, to point it right at me. My heart freed itself from its state of shock-induced suspended animation to give a great leap in my chest. I sucked in a huge gulp of air, found my voice, and screamed like a siren, all in a single instant. Then, acting purely on instinct, I hurled the jar of leg wax at his head.

It was a heavy jar, dark blue glass filled with warmed wax, and it hit him square in the middle of the forehead with a sound like a cork popping out of a champagne bottle.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled, staggering backward and clapping a hand to his forehead as the jar spun away to crash against the wall and drop to the tile with a clatter. He disappeared through the doorway. For a split second after he was no longer visible I was still in a frozen state.

I knew he was still there, heard breathing and cursing and movements that told me he was just beyond the door. But this may be my only chance to get away so I flew toward the door, exploding from the bathroom like a sprinter on speed. In a single petrified glance I saw that he was only a couple feet away, a big dark shape with one hand still clapped to his forehead as he bent over to pick up the gun he had apparently dropped. I leapt past him even as he looked up.

"Son of a bitch!" he said again, abandoning the gun, he lunged for me, trying to grab me with both arms.

"No!" Dodging, gasping for breath, my heart pounding so hard that I could hear nothing beyond the drumming of my own blood in my ears, I fled toward the bedroom door and the hall and the stairs and the outside door below, screaming my lungs out all the way.

Oh lord, oh lord, he was chasing me, surprisingly nimble and fast on his feet considering his size. He was going to catch me. I knew he was; it was just a matter of minutes, seconds….

Frantically I tried to recall some basics from the self defense class I had taken once. Its mantra had been, if attacked, SING. S-I-N-G. The only problem was, now in my time of extremis I couldn't remember what the S stood for.

The only S word I could call to mind that seemed at all appropriate was scream. And I was already screaming like a steam whistle and it didn't seem to be doing much good, unless deafening him, as well as myself, was part of the plan.

"Help! Help!"

He was right behind me as I reached the top of the stairs, lunging and grabbing and closing his fist over the flying banner of my hair.

I shrieked loud enough to shatter glass in Columbia as my head was jerked backward so hard I was surprised my neck didn't snap. Then his arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me against him, and his gloved hand clamped down over my mouth and nose, silencing, and suffocating me. I was enveloped by the heat of his body and the smell of talc from the glove and sweat from the man.

"You shouldn't have hit me." he growled in my ear. I could smell the onions on his breath. My stomach heaved. Lack of oxygen and terror made my head swim. My heart pounded. My skin crawled everywhere his rubberized fingers touched as if ants were running amok over my flesh.

Still I fought as he dragged me back toward the bedroom, tearing at his gloved hand with my nails, kicking at his shins with my bare feet, twisting and writhing and struggling with every once of strength I possessed, with every atom of knowledge the streetwise little girl I had once been had had to learn to survive, knowing even as I fought that it was probably futile, that I was not going to be able to save myself, that , at maybe a hundred and twenty pounds, I was no match for a brute who was easily twice my weight.

He dragged me back over the threshold of my bedroom, back into the room with the tasteful white carpet and taupe walls and huge black-lacquered bed. A room for quiet contemplation and restful sleep, not unspeakable acts and violence and death.

Please don't let him kill me.

The prayer shot skyward even as I managed to grab his mask and pull it off over his head, and he picked me up and threw me down on my bed. I landed with a bounce. He was on top of me before I could move, pinning me with his weight, forcing me deep into the mattress, even as I tried and failed to knee him in the groin, tried and failed to roll free.

I knew what he intended to do, knew it and screamed with terror into his face and thrashed and kicked and fought.

"Shut up bitch." On hand wrapped around my throat, cutting my scream off in mid blast, brutal, in its intent to cause pain, squeezing so that I was gagged and choked. My gaze caught on the teddy bear sitting Buddha-like on the bedside table, and I realized with a sense of horrified disbelief that it might be the last thing I saw before I died. He was crushing my throat.

"Shut up.' He said again nodded jerkily and he released his grip enough that I could at least get some air into my lungs. He let go of my throat and grabbed my wrists into one huge meaty hand while he began to bind them together with a roll of duct tape that somehow appeared in his hand.

Except for the light streaming from the open bathroom door the bedroom was dark, his feature were lost in shadows. But I could see the gleam in the eyes just inches above my own, the flash of his teeth against parted lips, the dark jut of his nose…

I lunged upward and managed to head butt him in the bridge of his nose. He howled, punching me viciously in the temple and throwing himself off of me. My head was knocked sideway, the room spinning and I saw stars.

It didn't matter, my fight or flight response was operating in full throttle now it screamed flight. Suddenly I was off the bed and running again for the door. I flew over the carpet and the hardwood floor of the hall and down the slippery marble steps so fast that my feet barely touched the ground.

I could hear him screaming and following behind me as I leaped down the last few stairs. He was gaining again but this time I heard my name being called from another direction.

"Bella!"

Edward's voice shouting my name was the most welcome sound I had ever heard. It came from the direction of the kitchen. Screaming, I veered that way only inches ahead of the man behind me, my bare feet slipping and sliding on the cool slick marble floor in the entry hall my bound hands in front of me.

I bolted through the dinning room's arched doorway then raced across the freshly waxed hardwood toward the kitchen.

"Bella!"

"Help! Help me!"

As my feet hit the cool stone of the kitchen floor the overhead light came on, all but blinding me. Unable to see in that split second I careened into the corner of the glass-topped table bouncing off barley even noticing the pain.

Then – I saw Edward – standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the family room, one hand on the light switch. My first glimpse of him seemed to catch him in midmotion, and then he saw me too and stopped dead, looking as terrified as I felt.

"Edward!"

I launched myself at him from probably six feet away and then two things registered in the same instant: one, Edward – Edward! – was holding a gun, and two, I couldn't hear the monster behind me anymore.

Oh lord, where is he?

"What the hell…"

Edward caught me as I landed against him, wrapping a hard arm around my waist, pulling me close to his chest as I screamed. He held me one armed while he shifted in a quick dance step that brought his back up against the nearest wall. His grip on the gun stayed firm and sure, and he aimed it toward the door from which I had come.

"Bella, it's okay, I've got you." Edward's body was tense, ready for action; I got the sense that he was balanced on the balls of his feet. Clearly he knows his way around a gun. He exuded controlled power, and I was suddenly possessed by absolute faith in his ability to protect me.

"Stay right here, and I'll…"

"No!" I clutched his shirt with both of my hands in a death grip that I had not intended to release.

"He's got a gun."

Then my ears started to ring, and the world was once again spinning madly. My knees gave way and the floor seemed to rise up. If he hadn't caught me, I'm sure I would have slithered down his body to expire in a quivering puddle of spineless terror on the floor.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 13

EPOV

"Bella! Shit, Bella!"

She had fainted; at least I hoped that was the reason. Any other possibility scared the hell out of me. I supported her dead weight with one arm, running a quick, anxious glance over her at the same time as I tried to keep an eye on both doors that opened into the huge, gleaming, stainless-steel and white kitchen.

The silky thing she was almost wearing made it hard to keep my grip. The brown crust that covered most of her face appeared, at closer glance, to be some kind of cosmetic rather than any of the more horrific possibilities, like blood or burns, that had flashed into my mind when I had first spotted her flying towards me. Her wrists here bound tightly together with silver duct tape. Her throat was a deep, ugly red that gave promise of turning purple later. But there was no blood that I could see, and no other obvious sign of injury.

Had she been raped? Fear for her joined forces with a deep, atavistic fury that made me want to go after whoever had done this to her and rip him apart with my bare hands, or at the very least, empty a magazine into him.

The perp was still in the house. I knew it with the kind of sixth sense that had, long ago, made me such an effective cop. I could not leave Bella alone to go after the bastard. That much cool headedness I retained. If the perp, by some unlucky chance managed to get me first, the way would be clear for the sick bastard to finish what he'd started with Bella.

The graphic mental images that accompanied the thought made me feel murderous all over again. Calm down, I warred myself. My first objective had to be to get Bella to safety. With a low growl of frustration I bent and heaved her over my shoulder. Her arms and head hung sack-of-potatoes-style down my back. The silky animal-print stuff of her nightgown was cool against my ear and cheek. The lace that hemmed it tickled my jaw whenever I moved my head.

She was not heavy but she was awkward to carry, to no small degree because her slithery gown made her dead weight slide off my shoulder. I had to hold her tight, with my arm locked across her thighs. She said the attacker had a gun. The chances were good that the guy would run for it, but criminals were not known for their reliability and I wasn't taking any chances. What I was doing was hauling ass.

A single set of keys dangling from a hook near the door caught my eye. Thinking fast, juggling Bella and my pistol and praying that I wasn't about to be jumped from behind, I snagged them, fairly sure that they were the keys to the white Infiniti in the garage. It was a loaner from the insurance company, that much I knew. That made it, in effect, her car.

I was taking her straight to the nearest hospital. Royce would get home sooner or later, the police would do their thing, and what had happened at the Kings house tonight would be the talk of Summerville tomorrow. In the interest of keeping Bella's retention of a private investigator confidential, it would be better if I took her in her car. After I made sure she was safe and in good hands I could fade into the scenery, and, when the time came for her to give a statement, she could claim that she had escaped on her own and driven herself in.

Provided that she was conscious and talking by then. I dismissed that thought as useless and distracting, and backed warily out through the heavy panel door leading into the garage.

Except for the light from the open kitchen door, it was dark in the garage. It was far warmer than the air-conditioned house, and smelled faintly of freshly cut grass and WD-40. Rounding the hood of the Infiniti I tried the rear door, knowing we could come under fire at any second. To put her in the car required both hands. I had to place the Glock on the roof. Unarmed now and feeling hideously vulnerable, I did a clumsy juggling maneuver with Bella's body that somehow ended with her lying, knees bent, on her side in the backseat.

Good enough. I shoved her feet all the way inside and closed the door, grabbed the Glock, and leapt for the garage door that I had broken into on my previous visit to the house. It had not yet been fixed. I knew, because I'd entered through it. Keeping a wary eye on the bright rectangle of light, I heaved the door up, wincing at the telltale rattle it made, then jumped behind the wheel of the car, placing the Glock within easy reach on the front passenger seat. The key fit, the engine turned over, and I slammed the car into drive, and we were out of there.

Until we hung a left at the end of the driveway and I felt the tension leave my shoulders, I hadn't realized just how scared I'd been. I glanced back at Bella, she was still breathing; her chest rose and fell rhythmically beneath her flimsy nightgown, and her legs shifted restlessly. Unless the intruder and shit for brains, he was already gone. It went way against the grain to just let the son of a bitch escape, but under the circumstances there seemed to be no help for it.

My feelings had surprised me; I felt a combination of grinding fear and murderous rage that was at the moment churning through my gut. I don't think I'd ever been as petrified in my entire adult life as I had been when I first heard Bella scream. I blew through a stop sign at the corner with scarcely more than a pause and a glance, and went cold all over again as I remembered.

After she had left me, I had settled down in the Blazer to wait for Royce to get home. Bella said Royce wasn't violent, but I had my own reasons for knowing better than that. The thing was, Royce apparently wasn't violent to Bella. Of course, that could be because she had never given him cause. Having him followed as a prelude to divorcing him might well, in Royce's book, constitute cause.

In any case, I wasn't inclined to bet the farm that it wouldn't. If Royce had made us at Sweetwater's – and I didn't think he had, but it never paid to take things like that for granted – Bella might just discover a whole new side to her husband that she apparently had no idea existed. If that were to happen, I planned to be on hand. Over the last 24 hours, watching out for Bella seemed to have become my mission in life.

Besides, knowing what time Royce got home and what he did after he got here could be important in figuring out exactly what was going down. Maybe Royce would make a phone call. Maybe he'd go for a walk or maybe he would simply go to bed.

Although not, I was glad to remember, with Bella. I didn't think I could stomach that. Which was a bad sign. A really bad sign. Bella King was my client, and my link to Royce and I should not have any interest in her beyond that. Truly the situation has gotten out of hand.

First she kisses me like she's dying to take me to bed, and then twenty minutes later said she wasn't going to sleep with me. But sitting in the Blazer in the dark, waiting for Royce's Mercedes to pull into the driveway, with pretty much nothing to do but breathe all I could do was think about Bella. I did try not thinking about her but it didn't work, so I gave up and allowed my memory of that kiss – and my fantasies – free rein.

Having to take a leak was almost a welcome interruption. I'd gotten out of the car to take care of business, and then set off on a leisurely stroll around the King Mansion just for something to do. Standing at the edge of the stone patio, looking at the moonlight glinting off the kidney-shaped swimming pool, I had to acknowledge that there was no way I could compete with something like this.

 _Yo, little bro, big bucks buy babes_. I could almost hear Emmett saying it, all those years ago and I found myself smiling slightly. As a cocky 16 year old I'd confronted my big brother, who at the time had no steady employment that I knew of, about the illegality of his newest money-making venture, demanding to know how he could have done something so damned stupid as to fly a butt load of marijuana into the country from Mexico in the small plane he'd somehow managed to get.

Emmett had grinned – that big, shit-eating grin that had driven girls wild and made me, his more serious minded little brother, increasingly wanting to pop him in the nose – and said he did it because there were big bucks in it, and 'Yo, little bro, big bucks buy babes.'

"Edward?" Bella's voice was faint, but it snapped my attention back to the present as effectively as a shout. I glanced over my shoulder as we scooted through another stop sign, and saw that her beautiful brown eyes were open at last and she was struggling to sit up.

"Yeah, don't move. We're on our way to the hospital."

"Oh, Edward, he – I…" her reply ended in a wordless quaver. A quaver that went through me like a knife.

"It's okay, you're safe now."

"I – must have blacked out." She sounded faintly woozy still, and she kept trying to sit up although her bound wrists seemed to be making sitting up more difficult than it should be. Or maybe she had some injury I hadn't spotted, and it was hindering her.

I turned around again to look at her and the motion nearly caused me to sideswipe a mail box. "Did you recognize him? Was it someone you know?"

"No. I don't know, I don't think so. He – he knew my name." she shuddered. Cursing under my breath I tried to use a gentler tone.

"Can you describe him? What did he look like?"

She shook her head, and took a deep shaky breath. "He was wearing a mask, at first. And then – I didn't get that good of a look."

"Are you hurt anywhere? Any pain or anything like that?"

"My head hurts." She said after a beat passed in which I realized my palms were starting to sweat. "He punched me in the head. And my neck. He was going to strangle me, I think. After…" Her voice broke. I glanced in the mirror and she was sitting up now. Her head rested limply back against the tan leather upholstery. Her hair in a ponytail still reaching past her shoulders. Her face was covered with a cracked and flaking layer of something brown.

"And my hands are numb." She continued more strongly, as if rallying. I had to take a deep calming breath myself before I could speak.

"I'll get the tape off for you when we get to the hospital. Just a few more minutes."

"The hospital?"

"That's where we're going." Clearly she hadn't registered what I'd said the first time. That was worrisome. Just how hard had she been hit? Stepping on the accelerator I glanced in the mirror again.

"Edward. Pull over." There was a sudden urgency to her voice.

"What? Why?"

"I think I'm going to throw up." I quickly pulled over to the side of the road. And Bella was already fumbling at the handle when I got her door open.

"Hold still." I had a pocketknife out and ready. Hooking my fingers beneath the edge of the tape, I sliced through the sticky layers with relative ease, then pulled the tape off with on quick yank and felt a twinge of guilt when she winced.

"Edward, move." She pressed her lips tightly together as if she was afraid of what might follow the words. Even as she flexed her fingers and shook out her hands she swung her legs out of the car and scooted forward. Her bare feet were pale against the dark bristle of the grass as she tried to stand.

She was about halfway out the door when she swayed and sank back. I grabbed her by her elbows, and helped her out. With an arm wrapped around her waist I supported her as she stumbled about six feet from the car. I stood helpless while she dropped to her knees at the side of the road.

BPOV

My head swam and my stomach heaved but I managed to keep myself from vomiting by sheer force of will. After a moment I leaned forward to rest my head on my arms, practically laying in the cool grass, too dizzy and exhausted to even sit up. My stomach settled but my head throbbed mercilessly, my throat ached, and my newly freed hands tingled and burned.

"Bella?" Edward crouched beside me and put a hand on my back and for once the heat was welcome; as I felt so very cold. I turned my head towards him, registered the gilt-edged outline of his head against the star-dusted sky, registered the broad-shouldered power of his build, registered his sheer masculine beauty, and felt comforted. No matter if he had deceived me in the matter of Angie, Edward could be counted on to keep me safe.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." The look on his face was one of disbelief.

"There's a water fountain over there. Feel like a drink?" It was only then that I realized we were at the edge of Sawyer park, a children's play area consisting of a grassy acre full of swings, slides, and sandboxes. I knew it well, thanks to countless afternoons spent playing with Jessica's girls.

"Sounds good." But before I could even make an attempt to rise, Edward scooped me up in his arms and started walking towards the drinking fountain.

"Okay, I'll bite. Want to tell me what the heck that stuff is on your face?" For a moment I didn't know what he was talking about. Then I remembered and couldn't help but smile a little.

"Mudd."

"You usually sleep with mud on your face?" He sounded politely interested.

"Mudd. M-U-double-d. It's a mask. For your skin. I was going to take a bath before I went to bed, and I put Mudd on my face first. Then I saw...him in the mirror before I could get in the tub." I shuddered and his grip tightened.

"How did you know I was in trouble?"

"Darlin', you scream like a banshee. I was standing outside by your pool when you let loose. Hearing you took about twenty years off my life, by the way." He took a deep breath. "Then I saw that someone had already broken in. It wasn't the best moment I've ever had, let me tell you."

For a moment neither of us said anything more. Moonlight bathed the playground in a ghostly glow. The playthings took on a whole different ambiance in the dead of night, I discovered. A sinister ambiance. A chill ran down my spine as I realized that I would probably never feel totally safe again. If it could happen here, it could happen anywhere, even in the innocuous little playground. Thank goodness Edward was here with me. Otherwise I would have been spooked out of my mind.

No, If Edward hadn't been with me, I wouldn't have been here in this cheerful-by-day, eerie-by-night playground to be creeped out by ghostly toys. Maybe I wouldn't have been anywhere.

"Edward. Thank you."

"For?"

"You probably saved my life."

"Not a problem."

"What...what if he comes after us here?" I asked glancing around the dark shadows.

"I'll keep you safe whatever happens, I promise. But you don't need to worry: he won't come. He's long gone, believe me."

"You have a gun, don't you?"

"Yup."

"You know how to use it, right?" I asked and his mouth twitched.

"I used to be a cop. Before that, Navy SEAL." I nodded my head and felt dizzy again and leaned against his shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Why aren't you a cop anymore?" I could feel the sudden tension in his body. For a moment I didn't think he was going to answer, and I lifted my head and looked up at him. His gaze met mine for the briefest of moments before he glanced away.

"I got fired."

"You got fired? Why?"

He sighed. "Because drugs went missing from the evidence room and were found in my possession a boatload of people were willing to swear I'd been dealing. I got fired. I would have been prosecuted, but the department didn't want the publicity."

"You were innocent."

"Yeah, I was. The guy I was investigating at the time got to me before I could get him." We had reached the fountain at that point and Edward set me down but kept a hold of my waist. I rinsed out my mouth a few time before attempting to swallow. The water was more lukewarm than cold and I tried to wash as much of the Mudd off as I could with my hands.

"Here." Edward spun me around with his hands on my hipbones and offered me the hem of his shirt. "Better... not that you didn't look good with that mud all over your face." he smiled and I couldn't help smile back.

"You know, lying is going to get you in big trouble one of these days."

For a moment he just stared at me before announcing it was time to get going and asking me if I could walk. Edward held me up most of the way back to the car and he helped me in before climbing into the driver's seat. The rest of the ride to the hospital didn't take long and before I knew it we were pulling into the parking lot.

Edward turned off the engine and just sat with his hands white knuckled on the steering wheel, his eyes hard.

"What?"

"Okay. I need to know. Were you raped?"

"No." I could see my answer relaxed him slightly and he finally looked over.

"You're sure?"

"Yes I'm sure. He didn't get the chance." Edward nodded once before he went over the plan. He was going to stick around to make sure I was okay but keep in the background. The doctors checked me out. The police were called. A seemingly frantic Royce and my even more frantic mother and sister came rushing in. When the curtain was moved aside to let them in, I thought I saw Edward slip out down the hall with his phone pressed to his ear.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14

BPOV

By Tuesday Morning I was back at work. I'd spent Sunday night in the hospital for observation and Monday night at Renee's. And although I insisted to everyone else that I was fine, I had to admit that I was still not mentally over the attack.

Physically either really. I had a concussion, a baseball size bruise on the side of my head. Three finger shape bruises on my throat, and one small crescent shaped one just to the left of my bellybutton. All of which were an ugly shade of purple, and the ones on my face and throat were impervious to attempts to hide them with makeup.

In their honor I wore a petal pink sleeveless sweater dress with a high, concealing turtleneck that normally I would deem too hot to be wearing for the weather along with a pair of sinfully expensive purple sandals. At least, I thought with a glimmer of humor, that no one could say I wasn't color coordinated.

They could say plenty of other things, though. I was starting to feel like a one woman side-show. I'd been badgered for details by everyone from the police to Royce to Renee and Jessica, to friends and neighbors and some people I don't think I even know.

Only Royce's combined cajoling and threatening of the publisher had kept the story out of the local newspaper. The consensus was that the attack was probably related to the theft of my car: either the thief had come across my picture that was in my purse – on my driver's license maybe – and have been moved by it to attack, or the attack had been part of the original plan, which had been aborted for some reason, and the criminal had come back to finish the job.

After all, what were the chances of two unconnected crimes occurring at the same address within two days?

Not to worry, though. The police assured me that (a) they would solve the case; and (b) it was unlikely that the criminal would return. Given what they knew, I supposed that both were reasonable assumptions, I was not convinced of either point however: look how easy they were to fool. I was sure that the man who had attacked me was not one of the punks who had stolen my car.

No way, no how, the punks who stole my car had my keys, and wouldn't have needed to jimmy the door which my attacker had done. For obvious reasons I kept that fact to myself and only discussed it with Edward. He called me twice, once at the hospital and once at my mothers. We'd spoken briefly and guardedly and I hadn't seen him since he left me in the emergency room and I was missing him.

It was an unusually busy morning, both because Monday's and Tuesday's appointments had been blended together and because of the looming start of the Miss Southern Beauty pageant. Besides Tia Benjamin, I was dressing seven other contestants. All had come in for final fittings, and finding myself knee-deep in adjusting built in padded bras and waist whittling spandex dress liners was cathartic.

When the phone rang around one, I was on my knees putting a last few stitches in a clients competition evening gown; my mouth full of pins.

"Bella, you have a phone call." Vera said entering the dressing room and looking down at me. "Someone named Angie." Spitting the pins into my hand before I swallowed them I answered.

"Thanks." I motioned for Vera to take over. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." I said to Maggie. She was such a sweet girl as well as her mother Shibion, who was sitting off in the corner.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself, you got any plans for lunch?"

"I've already eaten."

"Me too, so how about you heading across the street to the Taco Bell anyway? I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Tell you when you get here."

I hesitated thinking about Maggie. Lauren had gone to lunch which meant that Vera would have to handle everything alone. But Lauren would be back within the hour, and Vera was perfectly capable of dealing with anything that came up as long as I was back by three. That's when Tia Benjamin was scheduled for her next fitting. Ugh maybe I do need a break.

"Be right there." And I hung up the phone before catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Suddenly pink and purple to match my bruises didn't seem like such a good idea – and the clingy skirt seemed to make my butt look enormous.

I walked into the showroom and rifled through the racks until I found the square-necked lilac sundress I was thinking of. It was short and slim cut, far more chic than the pink sweater dress, and it worked well with my sandals.

Hurrying, I changed and hung my discarded dress on the rack with some of the newly arrived stock that had yet to be put on display. With the added addition of the four-strand pearl choker to hide the worst of the bruises on my throat I was ready.

I could see him standing near the Blazer with his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt under a Hawaiian shirt so bright it rivaled the sun. A pair of sunglasses so I couldn't see his eyes but his mouth curved up slightly. He was gorgeous. Why did he have to be so gorgeous?

"Hi." Edward said when I got closer. His arms uncrossed and his hands dropped, and I realized he was holding on end of a leash. A black leather leash. I followed it down past the front of the Blazer just in time to see Josephine emerge from behind one of the small, scruffy bushes that grew in the grassy strip that separated the Taco Bell parking lot from the Kroger parking lot next door: Josephine, minus her pink hair bows and nail polish, sporting a black leather collar with silver studs. She gave a sharp little yap of recognition and danced over to meet me.

"Hi Josephine." Her tail wagging so hard it shook her whole body.

"What did you do?" I gave Edward an accusing look.

"What? Oh, you mean the collar? I got her a new one; the pink was doing bad things to my self esteem."

"She looks like a dominatrix poodle."

"She does not." Tucking his sunglasses away in his shirt pocket, he looked at Josephine who was balanced on her haunches in front of me with her front paws waving in the air.

"Damn, she does."

"Yes, I know. He has no taste." I said in a commiserating tone as I picked her up. "You can tell from his shirts. But don't worry, I'll talk to him about getting your collar back, I promise."

"You've got a problem with my shirts?" Edward sounded affronted but he was also grinning.

"Not at all. Except that a person needs sunglass to look at them."

"They make me look like a tourist. I'm trying to blend in."

"I don't think its working." Josephine wiggled and yapped again and I freed her from the leather collar while holding her tightly. She shook her head about as if she was happy to have been liberated.

"Just like two females to stick together, and for your information she's lucky to be alive to get a new collar." He shot her a dark look as he unlocked the car door. "While you and I were out having fun the other night, she ate my bathroom wall. Chewed a hole in it the size of a basketball."

"Oh dear." I couldn't help but laugh a little. "She must have been bored."

"She must have been something. Like suicidal." Edward opened the door and waited for me to get in. As I passed him, his gaze touched on my bruised temple and the corners of his eyes tightened in obvious concern.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better than I look."

"Not possible." He said and closed the door before I could reply.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Word on the street is that nobody local did this." The Blazer headed for the street. "At least, if it's someone local, he's not one of the usual cast of criminals."

"What does that mean?"

"It could mean a lot of things. A burglar escalating things to a whole new level. Somebody just moved in from out of town, whose MO is still off the radar. I'm not sure yet. Which is one reason I wanted to talk to you. I want permission to search your house."

"The police already searched the house." My voice constricted.

"I know." Edward said and I was starting to recognize that impassive face. "But you've got to understand that the police are busy. They've got lots of crimes to investigate – and your husband made it clear to the powers that be that he wants to minimize this one. Any clue why he'd want to brush a brutal assault on his wife under the rug?"

"That's easy. The subdivision. Royce's company developed it, you know. It might hurt property values if people started thinking that women were being attacked in their own homes there. And Royce is really, really against anything that might hurt property values."

"Property values are important." Edward's tone was dry.

"I thought you were supposed to be finding out who my husband brought Viagra for." I was deliberately trying for a lighter tone.

"Hey, what can I say? I'm a full service investigator."

"For your information Mr. full service investigator, Royce is going to Atlanta this afternoon. He'll be gone for three days."

"I know that. Did you think that I didn't know that? That's another reason why I wanted to talk with you. Ordinarily, I'd follow him, because cheaters tend to hook up with their honeys on out of town trips. But under the circumstances I think it better if I stay here. I don't like the idea of leaving you on your own." A serious not entered his voice as he said the last.

"You think the guy's coming back, don't you?" I asked, my blood running cold.

"Slow down. I don't necessarily think he's coming back. What I think is, it pays to be careful. Whatever happens, I'll make sure you're safe until we get this all sorted out. Trust me."

"I do." I replied exhaling a deep breath. His smile was slow and sweet.

"That's my girl." Before I could get too hung up on his words, we were slowing to a stop in front of the Deforrest's big brick house, which was across the street and kitty corner to my own.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you, I want to search the house. Now's the best time, because none of your neighbors are home during the day, and Royce is headed out of town. What I'd like you to do is come in with me, show me around, and maybe walk me through what happened Saturday night. Are you up to it?" He put the car in park and looked at me.

I hadn't entered the house since Edward had carried me out of it; Royce had spent the last two nights in it alone. Left to my own devices, I was more likely to fly to the moon than walk inside that house again. Even thinking about it, I started to hyperventilate. But if Edward thought this guy would come back…I took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'll be right with you every step of the way." A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes as he glanced down at me holding Josephine. "And hey, you've even got a guard dog on duty." He reached over and petted Josephine on the head.

I walked around the front of the Blazer holding Josephine tightly to find Edward affixing a large, white, magnetic sign to the driver's door. _Lawn-Pro Lawn and Landscaping_ it said above a local phone number.

"I keep it in the back for occasions such as this." Edward explained. "Nobody ever gives me a second glance with this thing on the door. You'd be surprised how many of the services operate in neighborhoods like this during the day."

Now that I thought about it, I could hear the muted roar of a lawn mower in the distance. A glance around showed me a man sitting atop an orange commercial mower several yards over, paying us not the least bit of attention as he did his own thing.

"It's called hiding in plain sight." He said as we walked up to the front door, using the key I handed him and opened the door for us. I could feel my heart rate quicken and having Josephine in my arms was comforting as well as a slight distraction.

There was no visible reminder of my ordeal. The house was pristine, and smelled faintly of Murphy's Oil. Of course the cleaning service came every Tuesday and Friday mornings which would explain the fresh sheen on the marble floor and the gleam of the just polished furniture. Strange that the house should be exactly as it had always been, unchanged by what had happened within its walls, while I felt as if the attack had altered my inner landscape forever. Fear was now part of my internal language, which it never had been before.

When my glance fell on the imposing staircase with its wrought iron railing, my breathing picked up again.

"You okay?" Edward's hands on my shoulders made me jump. He was right behind me, solid, strong, and infinitely reliable, and it was that knowledge that calmed me down and enabled me to be able to breath normally again.

"The cleaning people came today. If the police missed any kind of evidence, it's probably gone now." Edward muttered something under his breath in response. As we approached the foot of the stairs I turned to face him.

"I was in my bathroom…" I told him looking back at the stairs again as the memory assailed me again.

"Edward, I don't think I can go up there."

"You don't have to do anything you're not ready for." His hand just brushed over my bare arm in a comforting caress.

"We'll stay downstairs if you want." His eyes shifted past mine and to the open door that led into the den. "Is that some sort of office?"

"Royce's desk is in there, and his computer. He does quite a bit of work at home."

"Mind if I check it out?" He asked, already heading that way.

"Go ahead." I said trailing behind him, watching as he conducted a quick search of the desk, opening drawers and rifling though the contents, then turned on the computer.

"What are you looking for?" Edward shrugged noncommittally.

"I don't suppose you know the password to any of these files by any chance?"

"No clue."

He grunted in unsurprised acknowledgement as he continued to point and click, then peck away at the keyboard, apparently trying words at random.

"Ah." He said moments later with obvious satisfaction watching as text popped into view. I was just about to ask how he'd done that – clearly he had either figured out the password to one of the files or somehow bypassed the systems security – when an unexpected sound from somewhere behind me.

I spun around, in my arms Josephine stiffened. The little dog's eyes stared alertly toward the kitchen. Because there was no possibility of mistake; someone was entering the house though the garage door. Terrifying memories came back in a rush.

"I'm right here."

Edward had obviously heard the sounds too. He was behind me before I could break and run, his voice low, one hand wrapping around Josephine's muzzle. Even as he spoke he drew me back inside the den. A glance told me that the monitor was now dark and still. Edward must have turned it off.

"Keep Josephine quiet." He breathed in my ear, closing my hand around the poodle's muzzle as he removed his own. I obediently held Josephine's mouth shut but to the dog's credit she showed no inclination to bark.

Edward's arm slid around my waist as he slowly pulled us over to one of the two long windows overlooking the manicured back lawn and the pool. He pulled us behind the drapes that hung from ceiling to floor, letting the heavy taupe velvet and the whisper soft sheet beneath wrap around us hiding us from sight.

Trying to keep my breathing under control I leaned my head against Edward's chest listening to the steady drum of his heart. One of his arms still around me he somehow produced a gun from somewhere on his person. Which he now held in his hand. It was the black, businesslike weapon I had seen before, when he had appeared like a guardian angel in my kitchen.

Once I was in control enough to listen I realized that the attacker had not returned. At least one of the voices was all too familiar. This was – Royce. Royce and a woman.

"It's Royce." I whispered.

"Don't move, and don't make a sound." Edward whispered back and his arm tightened around me like he was afraid I might pull away and dart out to confront my husband. Edward shifted positions without loosening his hold on me and maneuvered so that my back was against the wall and he was in front of me, as if to both shield and me and keep me in place.

I again, got a good look at the gun in his hand. He had not lowered it, or relaxed in any way. His attention seemed to be divided equally between me and the newcomers who were now talking unconcernedly in the hall just a few yards away.

I realized that Edward considered Royce's presence a threat. Before I could get all the implications of that sorted out, I heard my husband's voice clearly.

"…plenty of time." He said in a jocular tone.

"I guess I can tell her I had to run an errand, but I absolutely, positively have to be back there by three." The woman's voice was young, gigglely – and almost as familiar as Royce's.

"If you're in a hurry, we could always do it right here on the steps."

"Oh Royce." A high pitched giggle. Rapturous silence. Then, from a little bit farther away, as though they were climbing the stairs: "What time does your plane leave?"

"Four. You've got such a nice, tight little butt…" Even as I registered that bit of insult that had been added to injury, the voices faded into indistinctness. Or at least, I could no longer hear them distinctly which worked just a well. There was another, muffled giggle, followed by distant footsteps and the sound of a door closing.

"Come on, we're getting out of here." Edward voice was a growl in my ear. He thrust his gun down the back of his jeans, taking Josephine and wrapping his hand around my wrist and was literally dragging me from our hiding place. With no will to resist, I allowed myself to be dragged: though the hall, the dining room, the kitchen, the garage, while visions of what I was leaving behind swirled thorough my head. Royce's Mercedes was parked in the garage. The big, black Mercedes that he drove so proudly as a symbol of his success.

"Wait." I said hoarsely and freed myself from Edward's hold with a sudden yank. Before he could stop me, I was back inside the house, in the cool hush of my own kitchen, quick and quiet I snatched what I needed from the pantry cabinet.

Edward was already coming across the kitchen after me as I brushed by him again on my way back down into the garage. With a flip of my hand and two quick turns of my wrist I had the Mercedes gas cap off. Then upending the bag of sugar I had and carefully, using one corner of as a funnel, poured the contents down the tank.

"What the hell…" Encumbered by Josephine, Edward wasn't fast enough to stop me.

"Royce loves this car." I told him screwing the lid back on and closing the little door.

"Remind me never to tick you off." A quick smile just touched his lips before he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the garage.

"Get in." he ordered when we reached the Blazer, jerking the door open. He took the sugar bag ball out of my hands and tossed it in the back seat. A quick glance at the house told me that the curtains had been drawn across the master bedroom's windows.

"That was Lauren. That no-good dirty rotten bastard is doing Lauren in my bedroom. On my bed."

"Get in." Edward said again, practically shoving me inside. This time I complied and he dumped Josephine on my lap and shut the door. Seconds later he slid behind the wheel, tossing the white lawn-service sign into the backseat where the sugar bag and Josephine's rejected collar took up space. Edward leaned across, opened the glove compartment, extracted a doggy brownie from it, and tossed it into the backseat.

"Go get it."

Josephine, way ahead of him, had looked around at the first stretch of his hand toward the glove compartment and was already springing like a mini kangaroo over the seat as he spoke.

"So who's Lauren?" He asked as we were already turning the corner.

"She works for me. She and Vera. At Carolina Belle. I don't believe this. No wonder Royce needed Viagra – to keep up with her! She's only twenty – the same age I was when Royce met me. And last year she won Miss Angel of Beauty. He's replacing me with me."

"Men do that a lot." Edward's voice was even. The glance he sent my way was stark with concern. "There's a certain type they like, and they go back to it again and again."

"So now I'm a type? Thank a lot."

"Hey, it could be worse. At least you're a beautiful, sexy, type." His attempt to make me feel better wasn't' working.

"I want to make him pay."

"That sugar in the gas tank thing was a pretty good start. You know, that car cost about eighty grand."

"Yeah. Of course, insurance will cover it. He'll just get another one."

"I know you're upset, but try to focus on the big picture here. You got him right where you want him. He just handed you his head on a plate." Edward then fished out his cell phone and punched a button. I could hear someone on the other end answer.

"You're working on the Katie Marshall thing right?" There was an affirmative sound on the other end. "That puts you about five minutes from here. I need you to come on into Summerville as quick as you can and get as much audio and visual as possible on a couple shacked up in the upstairs bedroom at 451 Magnolia in the Sutherland Estates subdivision. You got that?"

"Who you got in there?" the voices sounded interested.

"Just do it, I gotta go."

"Who was that?" I asked. The phone rang shrilly before he could reply. He glanced at it and smiled before turning it off.

"My partner, we need proof that Royce shacked up with your employee in the marital home so that it doesn't deteriorate into a he said, she said kind of situation; even if it's just the two of them leaving the house together. Whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words knew what he was talking about, at least in court."

"I'm going to have to fire Lauren. How does this sound? She walks in from her long lunch and I meet her at the front door and say, _you're fired for screwing my husband_. She's worked for me for over a year. I liked her."

"You probably shouldn't go back to work right now. Give the worst of the shock time to wear off."

"Take two aspirin and fire her in the morning? She's probably been sleeping with him for most of the time she's been working for me. I had no idea. I can't believe I had no idea." And I needed those two aspirin now. I had a headache from hell.

"That's how it usually works."

"How it usually works sucks."

"Yeah."

"When my mother finds out, she's just going to die. She'll probably try to get us into counseling or something. And she'll probably drag my sister into it. Then Mike – my sister's husband; he works for Royce – will get dragged into it too, and when I still insist on getting a divorce everybody will have to choose sides and Mike will lose his job and the girls – my nieces – will be destitute and…"

"Whoa. It won't be as bad as all that." Edward tried to be comforting.

"Yes, it will. It will be just that bad. How could he do this?"

"I know it seems terrible now, but you'll come out on the other side of this as good as new."

"How do you know? Have you ever been married?"

"For about nine months five years or so ago."

"You're divorced?" I asked and Edward nodded.

"What happened?"

"When I got fired from being a cop, my wife decided that she couldn't deal with a husband who was not only an embarrassment but couldn't pay the bills. She left me. Best thing that could have happened to me. Of course, I didn't think so at the time." His insouciant attitude hid a world of remembered pain, I was sure and I reached out and put a hand on his jean covered thigh.

"She must have been insane." Edward gave me another one of those inscrutable looks, and covered my hand with his.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about Royce."

The Blazer turned down a residential street and then another. The houses were older, small, with neat green postage-stamp yards punctuated by the occasional palmetto. Just then I realized this particular street was familiar as Edward pulled into a driveway and parked.

Glancing around, I couldn't help but smile. The last time I'd been here it had been in the middle of the night. Edward brought me to his house. Life was looking up. Josephine apparently realized where she was, too, because she stood up in my lap and yapped excitedly, and as soon as Edward's door was open she bolted across his lap and quickly made her way to the grass on the parking strip. Before I even had a chance to close the car door we heard a voice call out.

"Edward! Edward! Have you seen Gus?"

Edward swung around in the direction of the voice. I swung around shading my eyes to discover a wizened little woman in a faded floral housedress waving at us from a concrete stoop two houses down.

"No, I haven't Mrs. Marx." Edward called back politely.

"Can you believe that man? I send him to take out the trash and he disappears. What do you bet he snuck around the block to have a smoke?"

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised." Edward glanced back at me, took my hand and started walking towards the house, pulling me behind him. "You take care Mrs. Marx." Mrs. Marx waved in answer and turned to look searchingly up and down the street.

"She's a friend my grandmothers, and the biggest gossip in Charleston." Edward said as he unlocked the door. "She probably came outside to get a look at you. Next time I go see Grandma, I guarantee you, I'll get the third degree."

He whistled for Josephine who came trotting up, and then he herded us inside. Mrs. Marx was still on her porch, I noted, looking our way.

"The neighbors spy on you for your grandmother?" The notion was so irresistibly charming I couldn't help but smile.

"She used to live in this house, and they used to be _her_ neighbors. I bought it from her five years ago when she decided to move in with her sister and I got divorced. I haven't done much to it, except get rid of some bric-brac. My grandfather's old '57 Chevy is still parked in the garage. Anyway Aunt Elizabeth sold her house just a few weeks ago – that's when I got custody of Josephine – and she and grandma moved into a retirement home together, but she still keeps in touch with the neighbors."

"I think it's sweet." The house was just as I remembered it, cool and dark. The curtains were drawn to keep out the worst of the afternoon sun. The couch, chair, and TV were just where they had been before. The big difference was that newspapers and magazines no longer cluttered the floor by the chair. Looking closer, I discovered, a pile of reading material stacked high up on top of the TV and my smile widened. Pet training seemed to be working. Josephine had obviously taught Edward to keep things off the floor.

While Edward had gone into the kitchen with Josephine hot on his tail, I sat down on the couch and closed my eyes for just a minute while the events of the day caught up with me.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 15

EPOV

I walk back into the living room with a couple of drinks and I find Bella asleep. Knowing how exhausted she had to have been at least emotionally I carefully picked her up and took her into my bedroom and laid her down on my bed.

Before I could succumb to the idea of lying down next to her I quickly closed the door and made my way back to the living room and flopped myself down on the couch. I couldn't concentrate on the TV at all and my mind kept wandering back to Bella.

I was getting in deep and I needed to find a way to come clean with her about knowing her husband prior to her knowledge. Rubbing my hands down my face I came to the conclusion that I would do so tomorrow. She's already had one hell of a day.

Nearly falling asleep myself I was startled when the land line rang. I wanted to get to it before it woke Bella when suddenly the ringing stopped almost as soon as it started. Making my way to the kitchen to turn the ringer off in case someone called again I stopped dead at the threshold. Josephine had the telephone cord in her mouth. The instrument lay on the floor, on its side, the receiver belly up like a dead goldfish.

"Damn it Josephine!" the poodle jumped to her feet and bolted still clutching the cord in her mouth, the severed receiver bumping after her across the hardwood. Picking up the decapitated phone, there was nothing that could be done, except toss it and chalk up it up another thing in a long list that she destroyed.

Then about 30 minutes there was a knock at my front door. We hadn't been inside for that long but perhaps long enough for Mrs. Marx to expire of curiosity. It wasn't her usual MO – my activities were usually only fair game when I was outside the house – but it was possible that the old lady couldn't take the suspense and had come up with the bright idea of coming over to borrow a cup of sugar or something of the sort.

I peeked out the window and was greeted with the site of a white tailored pant leg that did not belong to Mrs. Marx. It was definitely a male leg and it didn't take a genius to guess whose.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Jasper demanded in a furious tone the moment the door opened and he was pushing his way into the house before I could say a word.

"You got a spark plug loose, getting mixed up with that shit again? You got your panties in a twist about Royce King, that's your business. But I'm not getting involved, you hear? That dude is bad, and you know it."

"Hey to you too." I said closing the door. Jasper stood in the middle of the living room, his arms crossed over his chest glaring at me. I picked up the remainder of my beer and finished it knowing I would need another if we were going to get into this.

"Want a beer?"

"Hell no, I don't want a beer. I want to know what the hell you think your doing nosing around King again. Soon as I figured out who I was taking the pictures of, I about crapped my pants. I tried to call you, but you're not answering your damn cell phone – again! – And when you pick up here, you didn't say a damn word. So here I am, asking you to your face: What the fuck are you doing?"

I thought about explaining that it had been Josephine who picked up, and not me, but it didn't seem worth the effort. Instead I asked. "Did you get the pictures?"

"Did I get the –" Jasper looked like he was going to blow a gasket. "It doesn't matter whether or not I got the pictures. We aren't going to use them. You hear me? Are N-O-T not. Remember the last time you tried taking him on? Remember that we were cops back then? Remember things were going pretty good for both of us? And what did you do? You got a burr up your ass about Royce King. You went after him, and he nailed your ass to the wall – and mine too. I'm not making that mistake twice, and neither are you, if I can help it. Face the facts Edward: You aren't going to take Royce King down, and this time I…"

He broke off, looking at something beyond my shoulder, his eyes widening. Shit. Sure enough when I turned around there stood Bella, her big brown eyes questioning.

"Bella, meet my partner Jasper Whitlock." There didn't seem much else to do under the circumstance but to make the necessary introductions.

"Bella – King?" Jasper choked, staring at her as if she'd been a six foot tall spitting cobra. Of course he'd just been taking pictures of Royce so he would have King on the brain and he did work security at her wedding too.

"Bella's a client."

"Hello.' Bella offered. She wasn't smiling but I couldn't judge just how much she'd heard.

"Shit." Jasper said turning his incredulous eyes on me. Recollecting himself his eyes swung back to Bella. "Meaning no disrespect, ma'am."

"You were at my house earlier, weren't you?" she asked. Her manner both direct and composed. "I heard you talking to Edward over the phone. Did you – were you able to get pictures of my husband with his girlfriend?"

Jasper gulped. "Uh – Uh…" his gaze shooting back to me.

"Can I speak to you in private for just one minute?"

"He got them." I told Bella before she turned to go back into the bedroom.

"I'll just um, give you two a minute, I need to check in at work. Nice meeting you Mr. Whitlock."

"You too, Mrs. – uh – King." Bella's lack of expression made me apprehensive. Either she'd heard something she shouldn't have or she was still very upset about her husband with her assistant. Silence reigned in the living room until it was interrupted by the barely audible click of the bedroom door closing.

Jasper, looking nearly apoplectic turned on me with a vengeance. "What the fuck are you doing? He demanded in a fierce whisper. "Are you fucking Royce King's wife, you dumbass? Are you out of your mind?" I was going to deny it but I didn't think it would really matter at this point especially considering I wanted to be, and not just the simple act of fucking as Jasper had thought, but instead of going into a lengthy explanation I know we don't have time for I just ignored it.

"Like I said, Bella's a client. She hired me – us – to find out if her husbands cheating on her. As you saw, he is."

"There is no us in this. Uh-uh. This is you, all on your own."

"Fine. I'll consider her a private client. Would that make you feel better?"

"No. no, it doesn't make me feel better. Who's going to know she's your private client, that's what I want to know. What are you going to do, hang a sign on her neck? If King gets wind that we're spying on him, we got a shit load of trouble. He'll come after us – not you, us- with everything he's got. Been there, done that. I don't know about you, but nothing in that experience made me want to go down that road again."

I didn't say anything for a moment. Everything Jasper said is true. The last time I'd gone after Royce, Royce's retaliation had been stunning and swift. Days after I had briefed my superiors on what I was doing and – I'd thought – set up a sting that would bring Royce crashing down, drugs missing from the evidence room had been found in my locker. In the ensuing investigation, half a dozen witnesses had come forward will to swear that I had sold them everything from coke to LSD while on the job. The sting against Royce had come up empty – how ironic was that? – And in the end, I, not Royce, had been the one to come crashing down.

And Jasper, who'd been tarred with the same brush just because he'd had the misfortune to be my partner, had crashed with me. I had gone to Mark Stone, my captain and immediate superior, as well, I'd thought, a friend, in an attempt to save Jasper's job, but Mark had said there was nothing he could do. The word had come down from higher up, both of us were gone.

My eyes had been opened by that fiasco: the tentacles of the beast I was hunting reached everywhere. Even my fellow cops had turned on me when the shit started to hit the fan, and I had never been sure just who had been motivated by genuine belief in my guilt and who Royce had gotten to.

In the end, it hadn't mattered. Although no criminal charges were ever officially filed, both of us had been fired from the department, and both of our lives had pretty much gone to hell. Not much more than casual acquaintances when it happened, we'd stuck together afterward – Jasper said it was because nobody else would have either of us – and we built up Cullen and Whitlock over the years.

Looking at it that way, I could definitely see Jasper's point. It had only been in the last year or two that we'd actually started making decent money, and now, by going after Royce again, I was risking everything we'd built up.

"I can't just walk away this time, there's more to it and I'm too close." I didn't want to admit my growing feelings for Bella but her safety did come into play and there was no way I could stop now.

"But I'll keep you out of it from here on out. In fact, if you want to buy me out, I'll understand. I'm pretty sure Don Hadley at the bank will give you a loan. That would keep you out of it as much as anything could."

"I don't want to buy you out." he groaned. "Would you be smart for once in your life and leave this alone?" I started to answer but heard the bedroom door open.

"If you're busy." – Bella's gaze flicked to Jasper, who offered her a nervous looking smile – "I can call a taxi. I need to get back to work."

"I'm not busy." I told her grabbing my sunglasses and keys before telling Jasper I'd call him later. Josephine appeared – of course she did, she could see everybody was leaving, and she wanted to go too.

"Do you want to take her, or …?" Bella asked.

"Yeah, take her, there's less she can chew up in the car." We walked out. Jasper getting into his car. Mrs. Marx was no where in sight and Bella didn't say anything until we were driving down the street.

"So, is there something I'm missing here?"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 16

BPOV

"I thought we agreed that it would be best if you didn't go back to work." Edward had stopped at the stop sign then turned the corner as he spoke.

"I have to go back to work. I called the shop from your bedroom to check on things. Vera – my other assistant – told me that my three o'clock is still there and things are not going well. Besides, I have to face Lauren sometime. Better at the end of the day today than early in the morning tomorrow." I told him knowing he was trying to change the subject.

"Now, do you want to tell me what was going on back there with your partner?"

Edward was quiet before he opened and closed his mouth a few times, his expression was daunting.

"Let me take you to dinner tonight and we can talk then." He finally said with a sigh.

"What's wrong with right now?" I didn't want to wait until later.

"If you insist on going to work then it would be better if we waited. This is more than a 10 minute conversation."

"Alright, but I want you to tell me everything Edward, I can't handle any more secrets."

"I promise, I will tell you everything." He said reaching for my hand his face a bit grim which was turning the comforting gesture to an unsettling one. We had pulled into the parking lot near the Taco Bell. I stared at the large windows on my shop. I couldn't see anything other then the blazing reflection of the sun. I was going to have to go in there and confront this, or at least part of this, Royce would have to wait until he came back from his trip.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Edward's voice startled me out of my thoughts.

"No, thanks. I can do this. Then I'll close up and meet you back here at – six?"

"I'll wait for you. Come whenever you're ready. If you need me beforehand, call me."

"I'll be back as soon as I can, then you'll tell me everything?" I asked again.

"I'll be here, and yes Bella, I'll tell you everything." The look on his face was earnest. I set Josephine on the seat I just vacated and closed the car door. I stepped over the scraggly little bushes and the shadow from the building blocked out the worst of the sun.

Just then a green Lexus pulled up behind me and stopped. I glanced over my shoulder but kept walking, not paying any attention to it beyond that first instinctive glance. I vaguely registered the sound of a car door opening and closing.

Seconds later a hard hand clamped around my arm. It startled me and I must have jumped a foot in the air before whirling around only to come face to face with Royce.

"What the hell did you do? Huh? What did you do?" Dressed in a charcoal suit and crisp white shirt despite the heat, red-faced and scowling with this glasses slipping down his nose and his red silk tie askew, he looked furious. It was so unlike Royce to be anything less than completely dapper that I knew he must be really enraged. His nostrils were distended, his breathing hard, and his fingers were really hurting as they dug into my arm. For a moment, the briefest, flickering moment, I felt my stomach clench. I had always hated to make Royce mad, and the visceral reaction was still there – until I remembered all the reasons why I didn't have to put up with his temper anymore.

The thought that had occurred to me earlier replayed: he had set me free. He no longer had any claim. He had severed the tie that bound me to him by his own actions. Our marriage had been over in all but name long before Lauren had come on the scene. She had simply awakened me to the truth. I jerked my arm away from his hold.

"I don't know what you're taking about." My voice was icy. "And keep your hands off of me." Surprise flickered in his eyes for the briefest of moments before his face darkened. He seemed to vibrate with anger as he stepped closer, looming over me.

"You know what I'm talking about all right. You were in the house, weren't you? Were you spying on me? You were, weren't you? And what the hell did you do to my car? I missed my plane! Do you know how important that meeting was? Because of you, I missed it!"

Despite my own fury rising, I was rendered speechless. Instead of apologizing, explaining, or even attempting to make some excuse for being caught red-handed in my house with my twenty-year-old employee, he was yelling at me for finding him out and damaging his car.

"I found your Viagra. I saw you in the house with Lauren. I know what you did. So you know what? I don't care if you missed your plane. I don't care if you missed your meeting. And I'll let you figure out what I did to your car. Our marriage is over, I'm filing for divorce."

For a moment he simply stared at me, looking as stunned as if a kitten had suddenly morphed into a tiger and bitten him. His face grew redder and redder, his eyes bulging out.

"The hell you are." He grabbed my arm again and started dragging me toward the Lexus, his fingers digging in painfully.

"You'll get a divorce when I say you can get a divorce and not before, you got that? You trashy little bitch, anybody would go looking for something with a little more class – and a little less ass – if they were married to you." He gave a vicious yank and despite my best efforts at resistance I tumbled forward.

"Let me go!" This time his grip was unbreakable.

"Get your hands off her Royce."

Edward's voice stopped me in the act of kicking Royce in the shin.

"Well if it isn't Edward Cullen." Royce's lips stretched into a mocking smile. "I thought you got run out of town a few years back. Something about being a dirty cop, wasn't it?"

Edward smiled too, with as little humor as Royce, and their glazes clashed. Edward replied in a deadly voice that was nothing like I had ever heard from his mouth before.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten the details. I haven't. For a long time now I've been meaning to drop by and congratulate you on doing such a good job."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of a threat?" Royce looked ready to explode. Then, suddenly, his expression changed, and he glanced at me then back to Edward.

"What the hell are you doing with my wife?"

"Looks to me like I'm keeping her safe from you, asshole." Edwards snarling response reinforced what I had already sensed: the tension between the two was long standing in nature. Edward had never mentioned that he knew Royce…

"I hired him." I said pushing my confusion to the back burner until Royce was dealt with. "He's got pictures of you with Lauren. I'm going to fire her by the way, and like I said, I'm going to divorce you." Royce looked at me and back to Edward and began to laugh.

"You stupid little bitch." Royce said drawing my attention once more. "Don't you know when you're being used? He's been pumping you for all kinds of information about me, hasn't he? And you fed him everything you know." I must have looked as shocked as I felt because he just shook his head contemptuously at me. "You didn't have a clue, did you? Sometimes I think your bra size is bigger than your IQ. This guy's been after me for years, and now he's using you to try to get to me. What did you tell him?"

Feeling cold despite the blazing heat, I ignored Royce and looked up to Edward. "Is that true?"

He looked down at me and his eyes told me everything I needed to know. Royce was telling the truth.

"Bella."

"It is true, isn't it?" There was a ringing in my ears as I faced the hideous knowledge that Edward had betrayed me too.

"I can explain…I… tonight I was going." Royce cut him off with another of those jeering little laughs that brought my gaze swiveling back around to him.

"What did you do, go waltzing into this office and ask him to investigate me? He must have thought it was his lucky day. He didn't even tell you he knew me, did he? Like I said, he's been using you." He moved, walking a few steps back to the Lexus and opened the passenger door. "Now get in the car. We'll go someplace private and talk this through."

I looked at Edward in the eye and felt like I had been punched in the gut. I could hardly breathe. "Bella, listen…"

"It was a rotten thing to do." My voice scarcely louder than a whisper.

"Don't tell me you had something going on the side with him?" Royce laughed again. I didn't bother to tell him that while we hadn't slept together like I'm sure he was imagining, I had started to develop feelings toward Edward.

"Anything you have to say to me can be done though my lawyer. I'll call the office tomorrow and leave his name and number with Heidi." As Royce sputtered furiously, I looked to Edward.

"As for you, I never want to see you again."

"Bella." Edwards voice was hoarse and his eyes desperate. "Give me a chance to explain."

"Both of you can go to hell." I told them and walked away.

"You cheating little slut, you get your ass back here." Royce roared. No sooner had the words left his mouth I heard a sharp crack of a blow. Glancing back, I saw Royce flying backward while Edward's fist was still clenched. The scene we were making was catching attention of on-lookers so I kept walking. I heard rapid footsteps and I increased my pace until I was practically running.

"Bella, please. I know it sounds bad, but." Edward reached for me pulling me around to face him.

"Sounds bad? Is that what it does? Just leave me alone Edward, send me a bill and I'll pay it but then you need to stay out of my life." I was yelling and Royce who looked ready to kill us both was walking our way. A glance around told me a woman was on her phone looking like she was thinking about calling 911 started walking slowly in our direction.

"You have to listen to me." Edward said.

"No I don't." I turned back around and was nearing the edge of the parking lot when a movement from across the street caught my eye. Tia Benjamin had emerged from the shop and was coming this way, obviously having spotted me through the glass, with an annoyed expression that I knew too well. I nearly turned around again to head in the opposite direction as I didn't think I could handle anymore today.

"Bella, please. Just give me a minute." Edward caught me by the arm again, Royce with a bloody nose wiping it on the sleeve of his jacket, and Tia looking both ways before stepping off the curb. It was only then that I realized Tia was wearing the pink sweater dress I myself had discarded earlier. Why on earth….?

A blur of sudden movement on the street caught my attention, when seemingly out of nowhere a mid-size blue car hurtled toward Tia. She saw it coming: as she had a look of horror in her widening eyes and tried to move out of the way but there was no time. The car hit her with a sickening thump. Screaming I rushed towards her as the blue car drove off.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 17

BPOV

Tia Benjamin was dead. I could hardly believe it. I felt numb with shock as I walked out of the hospital at shortly after ten. It was still hot, stickily humid, with a sprinkling of starts overhead and a beautiful crescent moon.

Sitting there in that impersonal lounge with Tia's family as they waited for news had been one of the most wrenching experiences of my life. Tia had been the victim of a hit and run. The police were investigating, of course. They'd talked to Vera and they'd talked to me and they'd talked to scores of other people as well.

There had been dozens of witnesses, a few of whom had actually had the presence of mind to get at least part of the license-plate number. Neither the car nor the driver had been found, but the police seemed confident that they would be. I just hoped it would be soon. The accident had been horrifying in more ways than one.

I could not get past the fact that Tia had been wearing my dress when she was hit. I pointed that out to the officer, who had interviewed me, and he had dutifully written it down, but I had the feeling that the information had not made much of an impression and would end up buried in a file somewhere.

The consensus was, Tia had probably been the unfortunate victim of a driver who was drunk, or high, or elderly, or a kid, who had then panicked. The police were confident that both the car and driver would be found and all questions would be answered.

When I had asked her, Vera had said that Tia, annoyed at being left to the mercy of a mere assistant, had been chain-smoking in the dressing room. She had dropped ashes on her own dress, which burned a tiny hole in a particularly unfortunate spot on the bodice.

Tia had pitched a fit, blamed the whole fiasco on Vera, and insisted that she could not possibly step outside the store in a dress with a hole in the tit. Vera, not knowing what else to do, had invited her to take her pick from the stores stock. Unfortunately with her new implants, the only other garment in the store that would fit was my stretchy sweater dress. So Vera let her wear it.

And Tia had died in it.

"You ever think that maybe walking alone through a parking lot at night might not be a good idea?" The voice, coming from behind me as I headed toward my car, made me jump even though I recognized it. I was edgy, nervous, and didn't have to delve far to find the reason why.

"Go away." I didn't even bother to glance over my shoulder. Maddeningly, just knowing that Edward was behind me and I was, therefore, physically safe made my nerves relax. It also made my heart ache, and my temper heat.

"I know you're mad. I'm even willing to admit you have a right to be. But I can explain."

Having hit the unlock button just as we reached the white Infiniti, I turned on him.

"Exactly what part of go away don't you understand?" He stood there, the moonlight turning his hair to molten silver. It was reflected in his eyes, turning them silvery, too. It cast shadows beneath his cheekbones. He looked tall and broad and achingly handsome standing there regarding me so gravely and I hated him.

It scared me to realize that I did hate him. Hate was too strong an emotion to feel for this sexy near-stranger. I didn't even hate Royce anymore. I'd gotten over hating him long ago. No matter what Edward had done, the truth is I had known him for a very short period of time and while I should be mad, hating him told me that my feelings for him ran deeper than they should.

Edward grimaced as he stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "Look, Royce and I go way back, okay? When I stumbled across you, I admit that my first thought was that I could maybe get some information from you about him. But..."

"Forget it., you're wasting your breath. At this point if you told me the sun rises in the east I'd ask for a second opinion. Now leave me alone." I turned my back on him and opened the car door.

"It ever occur to you that Royce might be trying to kill you?"

"What?" the question was so unexpected and yet so in sync with my own uneasy feelings that I turned to face him again.

"Oh, not Royce himself. He's not the type to get his hands dirty. What he might do is hire somebody. Think about it: the girl who got killed today – she was wearing your dress, wasn't she? And coming out of your shop? Maybe somebody thought she was you. Maybe the same somebody who attacked you in your house. And maybe he's still out there. You've escaped him twice now. Maybe he's going to try again." Edwards words did affect me and I had to stop myself from looking all around, fearfully probing shadows.

"If you really believe that, you need to go to the police."

"They don't listen to me anymore – especially when it comes to Royce. Remember I told you that I got fired because the guy I was investigating set me up? That would be Royce."

"You were investigating Royce?" My throat suddenly dry. "Why?"

"Drugs." His eyes bore into mine. "At the time I thought he was running a drug operation, big time. Among other things."

"You're nuts." I put the car in drive leaving him standing there glaring after me. This was just all too much for one day. I couldn't stand there and listen to any more. There was just no way that as bad as Royce is that he would be into something like that without me having any knowledge at all. I mean, he was all about golf games and his business meetings and his fussy insistence on order and punctuality – a drug dealer was just…no.

But as I drove, turning off the main drag into the labyrinth of narrow dark streets that led to my mother's house I couldn't help but let Edward's words sink in no matter how far-fetched they may seem. It was then I became conscious of one particular set of headlights that stayed a consistent half a block back, making all the turns I made, slowing down when I slowed, speeding up with I hit the gas.

I was being followed. The knowledge came over me like a cold wave. My breath picked up as I reached in a panic for my cell phone. Then I realized who it almost had to be: Edward. Slowly I put the phone down. If I was wrong, if this really was a hit man on a mission, I was going to feel dumb as a rock before I died. But I don't think I'm wrong.

Just to be sure, I watched carefully in the rearview mirror as the blazer passed beneath the only streetlight on the route. And it was a Blazer. Edward was following me. I parked in front of my mother's modest brick house waiting when he got here. As he pulled up I got out of the car advancing on him with my cell phone in hand.

He got out of the Blazer just as I reached it, shutting the door but leaving the motor running. For Josephine, I guessed in passing. I could see the poodle's fluffy white head peering at me through the window. The sight of Josephine made me realize that somehow, over the course of this nightmare, I had fallen in love – with Josephine. Certainly not with the jackass leaning against the side of the Blazer with his arms crossed over his chest.

"If you don't leave me alone, I'm going to call the police." I threatened, waving my phone at him. He ignored that.

"You remember I asked you about Royce's first wife? You said she was completely out of the picture before you came into it. That's truer than you know: after an evening spent at a party with Royce, she was never seen again. Just walked off the face of the earth. I've been searching for her for years without turning up so much as a trace. Her name was Rosalie. She was only twenty-two."

"Are you trying to make me believe that Royce killed her?" Edward shrugged.

"I think it's more likely that he had her killed."

"Again, if you believe that, then you should've gone to the police."

"I was the police, remember? Once upon a time. I was a cop when I first noticed that Rosalie King was nowhere to be found, but the bottom line is, no witnesses, no bodies, no crime. The story was that the first Mrs. King went home to her family in California. The powers that be at the department were fine with that – even though there was no family in California for her to go home to.

Although she was from California originally, her parents had died before she married Royce. I can find no record of her anywhere on this planet after she left him. Now the department doesn't even want to talk to me. They might listen to you, if you went to them and told them that you think your husband's trying to kill you, but then again, they might not. There's no proof, not yet. And Royce and his family have some powerful friends."

"You're trying to scare me." And he was succeeding too; put together the right way, everything that had happened could be interpreted in such a way that it was possible to conclude that Royce had hired someone to kill me. But how unlikely was that? Royce was many unpleasant things, but I couldn't picture him as a cold-blooded killer. I was getting a headache and turned to walk inside.

"I'm trying to keep you alive." He came away from the Blazer then, catching my arm to pull me around to face him.

"I've been doing my homework darlin' and I don't like what I'm learning. Did you know that Sweetwater's – remember Sweetwater's, Royce's after hours hangout? Is owned by Rand Corporation, which also owns All-American Builders? Yeah, Royce's company. Apparently Sweetwater's is a happening place: cash goes through there by the truckload.

Word on the street is that it's used for money laundering by the mob. And Rand Corporation is owned by – want to guess who? Royce's father, and Royce's grandfather was chairman emeritus up until he died."

"You think Royce's father and grandfather are involved in money laundering? For the mob? That's ridiculous."

Edward shook his head. "No, it isn't. I don't have all the I's dotted and t's crossed yet. I haven't' had time. But I think Rand Corporation and its offshoots – meaning Royce, and Royce's father and grandfather and who knows how many generations – are fronts for organized crime. I think they're into drug smuggling, gun running, gambling, protection rackets, money laundering, the whole bit. And I think anyone who gets in their way ends up dead."

"Are you saying that I'm in their way?"

"Did you know that there has never been a divorce in the King family?"

"That's a sign of organized crime?"

"That's a sign of real bad luck for women who marry into the King family. There's never been a divorce, but there have been lots of remarriages. The King's wives tend to die."

I didn't know what to think but Royce's father had been married twice before. Royce said his mother had been hit by a car when he was three; and his second wife had drowned. Another equally scary idea flashed into my mind. Tia had been hit by a car. My own father had downed. It was a coincidence, it had to be. But –

"When I was a little girl, my father would sometimes work for a company called Rand Corporation." Edward frowned at me.

"He did? When?"

"I don't know, when I was seven or eight maybe. He and my mother divorced by then, but he would come by sometimes and give her his paycheck to pay for things for Jessica and me. The checks were drawn on the Rand Corporation. I remember the name, because Jessica and I were greedy to know everything we could about him. He didn't come around much." I didn't think my tone revealed the pain but something must have given me away because Edward's lips compressed and he was holding both of my arms and started to pull me to him.

"Bella…"

"Oh, no you don't. You've lied to me since I first met you. What the hell should I start believing you now?" He was just about to reply when the light on the small porch of Renee's house blinked on.

"Bella? Bella, is that you?" she peered towards where we were standing at the edge of the yard.

"Yes, mama." I said as Renee came to the edge of the porch.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Who's that with you?"

"Nobody Mama." And more quietly I turned towards Edward and told him I couldn't take anymore and to leave me alone.

"Bella…" Edward started again but was downed out by Renee who was coming down the steps.

"That is too somebody. Bella, is that the man who punched Royce in his nose?" I almost groaned at that.

"Who told you that?" I asked as I started walking towards the steps.

"Jessica told me. Mike told her. Royce's secretary told Mike. She knew because she had to meet Royce at the airport with a fresh shirt because the one he was wearing had blood all over it and he told her that you a lover who attacked him." Her voice grew of indignation on the last part. "Of course I didn't believe _that_."

"Oh did Royce go ahead and go to Atlanta after all?" I felt a degree of relief at that.

"I guess he did, but that's not the point. The point is he's going around saying you have a _lover_." Meeting Renee on the porch I put my hands on her shoulders to turn her around to head back into the house.

"There's no easy way to tell you this." I took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm getting a divorce." Renee gasped and both hands flew to her mouth.

"Why? _Why?_ Was Royce telling the truth? I can't believe it! Tell me it isn't true!"

"Have you ever thought she takes after you mother?" Jessica opened the screen door for them giving Renee a stern look. "How many lovers have you had? I bet you've lost count. Bella's allowed to have _one_."

"Thanks Jess." I'm not really sure why I was surprised to see her here. Renee is a great believer in double teaming. "Is Mike watching the girls?"

"Yeah, he's pretty upset. Says this could cost him his job." Jessica grinned teasingly at me. "Whoever would have thunk it – my perfect little sister with a lover? Way to go, Bella – you're making me look good." I wasn't going to bother correcting them, technically Edward isn't my lover but the thought had crossed my mind. Not to mention Renee would take that as an opening, for me to try and save my marriage and I didn't want to give her any more ammunition. And as if Renee could read my mind she started in.

"Listen to me Bella Marie, just because you have a lover doesn't mean you have to get a divorce. With a little work, I just know you and Royce can patch this up…" It was going to be a long night.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 18

EPOV

After hours spent not sleeping in the increasingly cramped front seat of my SUV I was beyond grumpy. All through the night, I'd kept watch over the house where Bella slept; via my cell phone, I'd sent Jasper, Alice and Jacob along with anyone else I could think of scurrying to round up information fast; and I'd done everything from taking Josephine on brisk walks around the property's perimeter to jumping jacks so I could remain alert.

The night passed undisturbed, except for the poodle's maddeningly frequent urge to pee and her determined destruction of a motley assortment of items I'd stored in the backseat.

What I needed most by dawn was a shower and a cup of coffee, not necessarily in that order. What I got instead was the sight of Bella emerging from her mother's house, dressed in bicycle shorts and a pink over-sized shirt with some kind of cartoon character on it, her hair in a ponytail and sneakers on her feet.

There mere sight of her made my heart speed up. And not just from the dazzling effect of her beauty; what really got my heart going was pure, unadulterated fear. She was, obviously going for a run. Alone. From the spot behind the overgrown honeysuckle hedge where I re-situated the Blazer after she'd gone inside with her mother, I watched in utter disbelief as she ran down the steps and across the yard, then set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. Either the woman hadn't believed a single word I'd said, or she had a death wish.

After a few choice words I sprang out of the Blazer, glanced at Josephine who was stretch out sound asleep on her back, paws flapping in the air, amid the destruction in the backseat, obviously exhausted by her active night, and set off after Bella.

The neighborhood was semi-rural, a quiet enclave of ranch style homes on well tended half-acre lots about five miles to the north of Summerville proper. I knew the area fairly well: it was a nice enough one, inhabited mostly by retirees and empty-nesters looking to downsize. A glance at my watch told me it was twenty-six minutes after seven am.

Most of these people would still be in bed. One old lady came out on her porch to retrieve her newspaper as I jogged past. I waved at her and she scowled back suspiciously.

I already knew that they didn't care much for strangers around these parts. I'd once done a background check on the daughter of a woman who lived in the area, and it had been like pulling teeth to get the neighbors to talk to me.

Up ahead, Bella turned the corner, still running at a steady pace and sticking to the sidewalk. I eyed her slender figure with growing wrath. She hadn't betrayed the least awareness of me and as I got a good view of her profile – delicate features, swinging ponytail, bouncing breasts, and long legs – I saw why. She had ear buds in listening to music.

Anyone could attack her so easily. I'll show her just how vulnerable to a surprise attack she is. I increased my pace until I was right behind her and gave her ponytail a tug.

She spun, screeching, and thrust her hand in my direction as she danced backward. Before I realized what was happening, I found myself on the business end of a can of – was it mace?

It was. Before I could react, the mist hit my eyes like a flamethrower. Screaming in surprise and pain I was clawing at my face and eyes, bending double, using the end of my shirt to scrub my face all with to no avail.

I was going to be burned, scarred, and blinded for life. At least, that was how it felt. I knew, mace hurt like hell but left no permanent aftereffects. This was a faint comfort in the knowledge when my face felt like it was melting and my eyes felt like someone had stuck hot pokers deep in the sockets.

"Damn it Bella."

"Edward! Oh Edward!" Her hand was on my shoulder, the top of my head, my arm. I got the impression that she was bending over me, peering into my face, but I couldn't be sure because I couldn't see. "I'm so sorry! I thought you were the hit man!"

Then the horror in her voice gave way to – was it a giggle? Yes, it was. A whole infuriating string of them. Seconds later she was talking through them to someone – I couldn't quite make out what was being said, or who the newcomer was, although the voice sounded male. Still bent almost double, staggering around like a blind drunken hunchback, I felt the stark fear override even the pain. She had rendered me – her supposed protector – all but helpless, and now, right at the worst possible moment, here came some unknown guy.

Was it the hit man? Not likely. If it had been she would have been dead by now, and probably me as well. Desperate to see I scrubbed my face with a different portion of my shirt, and managed to open my swollen, burning eyes a slit.

Just in time to get hit in the face with a burst of cold water so strong it could have been shot from cannon. Bella had found a hose, complete with water and a little old man who had apparently brought it to her, and turned it on.

"Shit." Stumbling backward, I tired to protect my face as the water cause the burning to intensify exponentially.

"Here, you do it." Bella said, thrusting the hose into my hand. "I want to finish my run."

"You stay right here. Do you hear me?" It was a barked order, uttered as my fingers closed blindly around the pulsing rubber tube. I grabbed for her with my free hand, but couldn't find her. But as least she was nearby. I could hear her still chuckling at my plight. Did she have no clue as to how much danger she was in? Obviously not. If I could just get the stuff out my eyes….

Knowing no matter how much it hurt, water was the preferred vehicle for flushing it from the eyes – I tried to angle the hose up so that the onslaught would not be as extreme and pulling my lids apart with my free hand at the same time so that the falling water could run into them, groaning when I succeeded.

"I saw how this fellow was chasing you before you squirted him. You want me to call the police?" I managed to get a look at the guy Bella was talking to. He was wearing belted baggy shorts that ended just above his knobby knees, a striped, tucked in sport shirt, black socks, and dress shoes. He was standing shoulder to shoulder with Bella, phone in hand.

Both of them were watching me suffering without a trace of sympathy that I could detect, although my vision was still pretty blurry.

"No. Oh, no." Bella laughed again – thus dispelling my last hope that maybe there was some sympathy there I just was not picking up on as I soaked the end of my shirt and scrubbed it one more time over my burning face. "I'm sure he's learned his lesson. Thanks for your help."

Then to my complete horror and disbelief she turned on her heel and took off again, continuing her run with the same blithe disregard for her continued existence that had cause the whole fiasco in the first place.

"Damn it Bella, come back here." I yelled after her blinking and squinting at her retreating figure, knowing that I was in no condition to follow. Except for a blurry wave she paid no attention to me at all as she turned another corner and disappeared from sight.

"Shit." But there was no help for it. I couldn't see well enough to go chasing after her. She was on her own.

By the time I made it back to the Blazer some fifteen minutes later, I was having waking nightmares about what might have befallen her. To add to the fun, my face and eyes felt like they'd been stung by about a thousand jellyfish, my clothes were dripping wet and icy cold, and I was being harangued from behind by Bella's would be protector, who had followed me suspiciously all the way back to my car.

Bella runs by and up the stairs and into her mother's house seconds before the old man's cell phone started ringing, distracting him from his determined pursuit. I jerked opened the drivers' door meaning to collapse on the front seat and close and lock the door before the old guy could start in on me again.

To my amazement, a snarling Josephine leaped past me like a fuzzy white missile and proceeded to commit felonious assault upon the now screaming old gentleman's bare, bony shin. It cost me five hundred dollars, a look at Josephine's license, and a couple of band-aids from the glove compartment to make that go away.

Hanging grimly onto Josephine, wondering if she was rabid despite having been vaccinated, or just plain insane. At least I'd been able to get rid of the old man and sat down in the Blazer's front seat.

"What were you thinking?" I asked Josephine who was now sitting in the passenger seat beside me, once again daintily feminine in her favorite pink and rhinestone collar. She wagged her tail and looked innocent, clearly hoping to convince the unwary that she hadn't' just tried to chew off a helpless old man's leg. I thanked God that she was a seven pound poodle instead of a pit-bull.

Leaning my head back against the head rest I see out of the corner of my eye, a white blur drive past, a horn honked, and a hand waved.

Bella.

I sat up in time to watch the white Infinite disappear around the corner. Shit. I started the Blazer and did a U-turn and took off after her. Not much to my surprise, she drove into Summerville and pulled up in the parking lot behind the strip mall that housed her shop. The one in which people who were not trying to keep their presence in her life a secret would park. To hell with it. I pulled in and parked next to her watching her walk across the parking lot toward one of the brown metal doors set into the back of the low brick building.

She is so beautiful in a snug black t-shirt and a white skirt. There were a few other people in the lot – a man heading toward another of the metal doors, a woman carrying a garbage bag toward the dumpster – but to all intents and purposes she was alone.

Grabbing Josephine – it was already too hot to leave her in the car – I tucked her under my arm and sprinted across the parking lot after Bella. I reached her just as she was inserting her key into the lock of the metal door. Ten tensions in her stance told me that she'd seen me coming.

"What are you, a slow learner?" she gave me an evil looked that was mitigated somewhat by the sheer beauty of those long-lashed Bambi eyes. "Leave me alone." Her gaze flickered to the poodle, which was wriggling with pleasure at seeing her. "Hello Josephine."

Josephine yapped excitedly and tried beating me to death with her tail. "You two should be buddies; you're both major pains in the ass. Now that you've had your fun for the morning, you feel like listening to my side of the story?"

"Take a hike." She got the door open, stepped inside, and tried closing it in my face. Snorting I just strong armed my way through.

"Okay, forget it. I lied to you and I used you. If that's going to be the bottom line for you, it's fine by me."

I was standing in an office, I realized, and set Josephine down on the carpeted floor, that was dark and pleasant smelling and approximately as cold as Antarctica in the winter. Bella's face tightened as she looked at me. She seemed to figure out that ordering me out would be a waste of breath because she closed and locked the door again before looking back at me to glare once more.

"Good. Then we're both happy. Or at least, I would be if you'd get the hell out of my shop."

"Not happening." I looked around seeing mirrors everywhere. A shiny black desk with nothing on it except a desk set and a telephone. A sliver rack half full of dresses. A gray flannel couch.

"It's freezing in here."

"If you're cold, it's probably because you're all wet."

"And I would be all wet because somebody maced me."

"You shouldn't have scared me." Her tone was unrepentant.

"Can you say hit man?"

"No but I can say bullshit." She put her purse in a drawer in the desk. "And that's what I do say: bullshit, bullshit, bullshit."

"You willing to be your life your right?" Now that the office had been awarded the all clear, I glanced around for the thermostat.

"Remember the guy that broke into your house? Remember the girl who got hit by a car while wearing your dress in front of your store? What are they, figments of my imagination?"

Bella didn't say anything but did purse her lips and then glanced away. Ha! I was finally getting through. I spotted the thermostat on the wall nearby and stepped over to it turning the little knob until the blast of arctic air stopped.

"Leave the air-conditioning alone." Bella said coming up from behind and smacking my hand out of the way then turning the knob the other way again so the air once again blasted through the vents.

"I have clients coming. If you're cold, I have a simple remedy for you: leave."

"Keep sweet talking me like that and you may never get rid of me." Instead of reaching for the knob again I grabbed Bella by the waist and swung her around behind me as she was would have walked out into the main area of the store. "Hold it right there."

"Let go of me! What do you think your doing?" She was pissed as she broke free of my hold.

"Besides forming icicles?" I drew my gun from its berth in the small of my back – which was thankfully one of the few remaining dry areas on my body – I moved into the large, elegant room ahead of her, scanning it for any sign of disturbance or unauthorized occupancy, checking behind racks of dresses and a large potted palm and a pair of gray flannel chairs for an intruder. "Doing my best to keep you alive. Without any noticeable help from you, I might add. Is that front door locked?"

"Of course it's locked. I haven't opened it yet."

"Keep it that way. Only open it to people you know." Bella just stared at me.

"You're being ridiculous."

Without answering I headed toward the back fitting rooms. Bella and Josephine followed. Both watched me with their heads cocked to one side.

"No hit man?"

"Not so far."

"Now that you've made sure there's no bogeyman under the bed, you can get out of my shop. I have a business to run here, and you are in the way."

"What I can't understand." I decided to ignore her last speech entirely. "Is why you're here today at all?"

"I thought about closing, but I talked to the Miss Southern Beauty officials last night. The pageant will go ahead as scheduled. They will have a moment of silence during the opening ceremony tomorrow to honor Tia but otherwise there's no change. And I'm dressing seven other girls. Five of which are scheduled to come in today, I have no choice but to be here.

"I don't believe this." I'm trying not to shiver when I talk but it's so damn cold. "I'm talking about someone trying to kill you and you're talking about a beauty pageant. Let's try and get a handle on our priorities shall we? What we need to do is get you the hell out of dodge. Lie low somewhere out of state, maybe, until we get some answers. Forget about the beauty pageant."

"No." Her hands were on her hips. "I won't forget it. This is my business. And those girls are counting on me. Anyway please explain to me exactly why I need you, because I don't have a clue. Let's just say for a moment that you're right about this hit man thing. If I really thought I was in danger I'd run to the police."

"And they'd be real polite, and write up a nice little report, and that would be that. Until you are dead, then they might start the investigation."

"I think I'll take my chances."

"Give it up Bella." I said completely exhausted. "I'm not going anywhere. At least not without you.

BPOV

By seven pm I was so incredibly tired. Maggie, that last of my clients was finally finished. "You'll be there tomorrow night, won't you Bella?"

"I'll be there for the duration. Don't worry, you're going to do great." I gave her a hug and then watched as she and her mother walked out of the store into the still bright evening.

"Like hell you will." Edward said appearing in the door way between the showroom and the office where he had spent most of the day alternately talking on the phone and using my computer. He was wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt that he'd had his assistant Alice, bring him early this morning.

Of course several of the girls asked me who he was when he had disappeared back into the office again after the cursory visual check he subjected all arrivals and departures to. I had told them that he was a visiting designer who went by the name of Angie, and had taken perverse satisfaction in watching their faces fall.

"What?"

"I said, you're not going to that beauty pageant " Edward returned my glare with stony-eyed determination. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were lines I'd never noticed before around them and his mouth. In addition his disposition had been deteriorating steadily all day.

"Everybody and his mother expects you to be there. Let's try to at least make the guy who's trying to kill you work for it."

"I've got a newsflash for you: you don't tell me what to do. Anyway I've been thinking: exactly why is Royce supposed to want to kill me? It can't be over money: I signed a pre-nup. It cant be because he thinks we slept together because he didn't make that assumption until right before Tia was hit. Are you suggesting he wants to kill me just so he won't have to endure the trauma of divorce? Sorry, I don't buy it. So what's your rationale here?"

Edward's lips pressed together. "I don't know exactly yet."

"That's what I thought." Just then Vera popped her head in the door.

"I'm heading out now Bella." She looked unsure. "Or do you need me to stay?" I'm not sure how much she knew about what was going on but obviously knew Lauren was not here any longer. When Lauren didn't show up this morning, I just left a message on her voice mail letting her know she was fired. Royce had called twice but I refused to take his calls and she hadn't said a word about Edward.

"No, Vera you go ahead and I'll see you tomorrow night."

"See you then."

"Thanks for all your hard work today." I walked her to the door and locked it behind her.

"You will not." Edward said scowling "See her tomorrow night."

"Want to bet?"

"Oh yeah. Know what I've been doing today?"

"Besides being a total jackass and guzzling enough coffee to float a boat?"

"Ive been checking the payroll records for Rand Corporation."

"What? How?"

"With this." He touched a black spark plug looking thing that hung on the ring with his keys. "I used it to download files off your computer. Royce's' business records make interesting reading."

"Aren't you the sneaky one? But I must say that it's a nice change to hear you actually admitting that you used me to get information on Royce."

"I am not admitting…"

"Know what? I don't care." I said reaching for my purse and seeing Josephine sitting under my desk.

"Your father received a steady paycheck from the rand corporation until fifteen years ago. Then it stopped. The same month that Rosalie King disappeared. The same month as…"

"Will you stop? Enough with your conspiracy theories. And will you please walk out the door so I can lock up?"

Edward narrowed his eyes at me then snapped his fingers for Josephine. The poodle appeared and stretched before Edward scooped her up.

"So what do you want for dinner?" Edward asked as he passed through the door.

"Not a chance."

"If you don't feel like eating, fine. You can watch me."

"I'm having dinner with my mother."

"Call her and tell her you have other plans."

"No." Though the idea was tempting, not wanting to deal with Renee. We stopped next to the parked cars and I looked out to where Tia had been hit yesterday and shivered. What if there was something to Edward's theory?

"Okay, here's the .." I was about to say deal when Edward handed me Josephine and dropped to his hands and knees on the pavement. I watched astonished as he peered underneath the the cars.

"What are you doing?" He took his time before standing back up and wiping his hands on his pants.

"Checking for bombs."

"OMG" Things were getting bizarre. I didn't know which was scarier. The idea that Edward was insane or that he wasn't.

"Get in." He held the door open for me.

"No." I turned around to get into my car when suddenly he lifted me up and put me in the blazer.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Put your seatbelt on."

"You're crazy."

"I think you should know that I'm having a very bad day here. I didn't get any sleep last night. I got maced this morning. I got soaked by a hose. I'm starving. I may be suffering from an overdose of caffeine This damned case is a riddle, and I've got a pounding headache from trying to solve it. I think I'm catching a cold, thanks to your air-conditioning. Tonight I have a ton of work to do, and I also need food and sleep. None of these things can happen while I'm chasing around the countryside after you. Which means your coming with me. Am I making myself clear?"

"Renee will call the police if I don't show up."

"Did you ever think that you might be endangering your family by being with them? Whoever our hit man is, he's obviously not all that careful about who he kills. If they're with you when he comes for you, he might get your mother or sister too- or instead." That thought was so appalling I was left with nothing to say.

"Give me your phone." Edward handed his to me and I left a message for Renee to let her know I wouldn't be home. Grateful that I got the answering machine instead, I sighed in relief.

"Does your mother scare you that much?" Edward sounded amused.

"She'll scare you too. She blames you for ruining my marriage and nothing I say can convince her otherwise. She wants to meet you."

"She sounds about as amenable to reason as you." Josephine chose that moment to climb onto my lap.

"So what do you want for dinner?"

"My mother's tuna casserole."

"Great. I feel like pizza too. That way I can eat while I work." Taking the phone Edward called his office as I heard Alice answer in greeting.

"Order pizza. One with everything, and one with..." Edward looked at me.

"Vegetarian." I sighed again, this time in defeat.

"Veggies only." Edward hung up the phone and got onto the expressway.


End file.
